


For Better or Worse

by angelofthequeers



Series: Butterfly Effect [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Mary, Blood and Violence, Body Worship, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Cute Jack Kline, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Sex, Good Anna Milton, Hand Jobs, Heavenly bitchfight, Kissing, M/M, Mary is a good mom, Michael!Dean, Or at least the sequel to time travel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Romance, Smut, Spoilers up to S14, Time Travel, Trauma, Wing Kink, Y'all thought I wouldn't bring my nougat son in?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: With Michael having secured his true vessel and preparing to purge the Earth of sin, Sam and the gang receive help from the most unlikely of sources, one that wriggles their way into Sam's heart. When the archangels are finally brought into line, the aftermath finds Dean struggling to discern what's reality and what's potentially another Michael illusion, with the help of Cas and a little something from Gabriel, who's not as much of a dick as he wants to think he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Now that the masterlist is finally out, I can start posting timestamps!
> 
> Also, if I get one more negative comment about my ending that’s not pointing out a writing error I could correct, I’m actually going to scream. If there’s something objectively bad that I need to work on, say it so I know what to improve. No one said ‘hey, this was executed poorly in this way’ and I can handle those comments. I’ve taken concrit before. But when you start whining that an ending isn’t as happy as you’d like, especially when the show did the exact same thing and everyone lapped it up, it really makes me not want to write more. It took months longer to write this fic than it should have purely because I would constantly get comments saying, ‘great fic but I hate the ending’ and my writing would just…dry up. What was the point, when if I tried to do something different and branch out, I’d just get complaints? I literally ended up ranting to my friends in tears.
> 
> I had two reasons for doing the ending I did beyond needing an ending that was complete enough to satisfy the DCBB rules but open enough to allow for the sequel. By saving people like Ellen and Jo and otherwise changing the timeline, other bad things had to happen to balance it out because time travel doesn’t fix everything. Future knowledge can mean jack shit because when you act on that knowledge, you render the rest near-useless as the timeline changes. Also, Dean and Cas being together 9 years earlier resulted in the angels realising they had someone to threaten Dean with without endangering Lucifer’s vessel as a bargaining chip. I literally did try a good ending, it didn’t work out, and I realised that I needed this sequel space to shift the focus away from Dean for at least the first half of it, which wouldn’t have meshed with the first fic.

“…all found with their eyes burned out of their sockets. No proof of the cause of death at the moment, but experts think that this could potentially have been a chemical attack, though how the perpetrator killed Pastor Myers and every member of his congregation in this manner with no alarms raised is unknown…”

“Michael again?” a soft voice said from behind Sam and Anna. They jumped and whirled, Sam’s hand falling to his waist for his gun while Anna’s angel blade materialised in her hand, but they quickly relaxed upon seeing who it was.

“Has to be, Mom,” Sam said. The unfamiliar word stuck in his throat like a piece of food. When Mary Winchester had appeared in the bunker the day after Lucifer’s defeat, dazed and claiming that she was from Dean’s timeline and a reward for him, none of them had believed it at first. Especially since she’d claimed that Chuck was _God_. Chuck Shurley, the twitchy prophet! Sam had been face-to-face with him!

But Mary had known things about Dean that Castiel had been able to confirm with his limited knowledge of the other timeline, such as something about a barn and the Lance of Michael. And now…it had been two weeks and he still wasn’t used to his _mom_ being back. She felt like a stranger, yet oh so familiar in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Myers was a very outspoken homophobe,” Anna said, shuffling over to make room for Mary on the couch. This pressed her further into Sam’s side, causing her scent of citrus and ozone to invade his nostrils. “My dad used to criticise him all the time. Michael doesn’t care all that much about homosexuality, but he does care about blasphemy. And spreading hate under the guise of something our father didn’t even say definitely counts.”

“He didn’t?” Mary’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

“No. When he was pissed at Sodom and Gomorrah, it was because they were evil people. The whole ‘sodomising’ thing came from older men assaulting younger boys. It was never about the buttsex at all.”

Sam couldn’t even muster a weak laugh at the word “buttsex”. Being holed up in the bunker’s makeshift living room they’d cobbled together last week in order to have an actual TV and keep track of things was taking its toll, and he couldn’t remember the last time he was this…exhausted. When was the last time he’d seen the inside of his bedroom?

“How’re you holding up, Mom?” Sam said a little hoarsely. “I know you were looking forward to seeing –” He broke off and swallowed, unable to even say his brother’s name. The sight of Michael appearing in the bunker in Dean’s body, wing shadows spread wide, and nabbing him to use as bait for Lucifer was one that would forever be seared into his memory. Because he’d looked into Dean’s eyes and seen absolutely no trace of his brother in them, and that was one of the most chilling things he could ever think of. Even after Dean had come back in time and his older soul had replaced his younger one, Sam had still been able to see _Dean_ behind those eyes. A different Dean, yes, but still Dean.

“I won’t deny that it hurts.” Mary sighed and looked down, eyes shining suspiciously. “After everything he went through in the other timeline just in the year I was there with him…I thought Chuck would’ve cut us a break. But maybe it’s not over yet. Maybe once we get past this, we’ll get our break.”

None of them dared to mention the very distinct possibility that they wouldn’t ever get Dean back. And it wasn’t as though they had a huge amount of time. Michael was already on the move to start purging the planet of sin after having defeated Lucifer, so it wouldn’t be long before he stopped targeting homophobes and murderers and started causing actual widespread destruction.

“Gabriel still won’t do anything?” Sam said.

“It’s not that he won’t,” Anna said. “I mean, yeah, of course he’s depressed that it’s one bad big brother – big bad brother?” She wrinkled her nose rather adorably. “Whatever brother swapped for another. But he just doesn’t have the power. And I very much doubt that Raphael would get involved in this. He doesn’t give a shit.”

Sam froze, then jumped up and bolted from the room, ignoring Anna and Mary’s exclamations. It was time for him to do what Dean would do in his place and make possibly the dumbest decision anyone could make in this situation. But hey, if it worked out for his time-travelling big brother, maybe it would work out for him.

***

Okay, so yeah, this was a bad idea. To be fair, planning out in one’s head how to ask a terrifyingly powerful archangel for help and actually doing so were two very different kettles of fish. And people called Sam the smart one.

“Winchester,” Raphael said coolly. “I can’t possibly fathom why you would summon _me_.”

“We –” Sam’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. He was very, _very_ keenly aware that all Raphael could blink him out of existence with the mere snap of fingers, especially since he hadn’t set up a holy fire circle as a gesture of goodwill and to avoid annoying the archangel even more. Not to mention that Sam was no longer protected from harm as Lucifer’s intended vessel.

Maybe he needed to think these things through more. Man, what he sometimes wouldn’t give to just go back to law school and pretend this never happened.

But Dean wouldn’t just up and run and pretend everything was all apple pie normal, so there was no way in hell Sam was going to do that either. Dean had literally given up everything for the _chance_ of making things right and the _chance_ of not being rejected by a different Sam and Castiel. If Sam had felt inadequate next to his big brother before, that was nothing compared to just how unable he was to live up to Dean now. But he had to try.

“We need your help, Raphael.”

Raphael continued to survey Sam with the detached air of a person watching an ant scurry along. Sam just prayed that he didn’t pull out the holy magnifying glass and smite him out of existence.

“I fail to see what I could possibly do to help the likes of you.”

“It’s – it’s Michael. We need your help to get him out of Dean. He’s going around and killing people and he wants to ‘purge the planet of sin’ –”

“And again, I ask how you think this concerns me in any way. This was foretold, Samuel Winchester. A fight between brothers, and Michael triumphed. The Earth is his and he may do as he pleases.”

Sam immediately noticed how Raphael’s composure changed ever so slightly at the “brothers” line. Did Raphael still possess even a modicum of care for his brothers? Maybe Sam could use this.

“It concerns you because Gabriel’s with us.” Sam crossed his arms, trying not to think about how he was being openly defiant to an archangel’s face. Gabriel didn’t really count, since he was so…unlike the other angels. “How do you think he’s taken the news that one of his brothers is powerless and the other is on a rampage? He’s not powerful enough to take on Michael by himself.”

Something flashed across Raphael’s face for the barest fraction of a second; so fast that Sam nearly missed it, but enough to allow him to hope that maybe, just maybe, Raphael would say –

“Gabriel turned his back on us, Sam Winchester,” Raphael said coldly. “He turned his back on _me_. So, pray tell, why should I help him now?”

“I – because he’s your brother –” Yeah, Sam was really losing this one. So much for ever getting into law school. Why was he currently about as convincing as John Winchester making a promise?

“Lucifer was my brother too. I simply don’t care enough to involve myself in this mess.” Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “I would normally smite you, especially being who you are…but I think I’ll let you live for now. Consider me allowing you to keep your pathetic life a boon for bringing me news of Gabriel and confirming that he still lives. If we cross paths again, I will not hesitate to put you down.”

Before Sam could even formulate a protest in his brain, Raphael disappeared with a fluttering of wings. Shoulders slumping, Sam trudged back to the Impala. What the hell could he do now? There had to be a way to save Dean from Michael. If the situation was reversed and Lucifer was running around in Sam’s meat suit, Dean wouldn’t hesitate to find a solution.

He had to talk to the others once he got back to the bunker and see if any of them were any closer to figuring something out, though that would be hard when Castiel was prowling around in a depressed slump, Gabriel was locked in his room out of either despair or fearful self-preservation, Mary was still adjusting to being thrown into a new time for the second time in a year, and Henry had basically imprisoned himself in a quiet room with stacks upon stacks of books. Sam wasn’t even sure if his grandfather was still alive. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Dean was still alive and kicking, or if Michael had suppressed him to the point of oblivion. Gabriel had been very clear about the effects of archangels on their human vessels’ minds without proper care the only time Sam had been foolish enough to ask.

Was Dean even aware of what Michael was doing with his body? Was he like Meg Masters and even Sam himself, awake and watching in horror as the supernatural being riding his ass killed and tortured and left chaos in his wake? Or was he sequestered in a corner of his mind, oblivious to what was going on? Sam sincerely prayed that it was the latter.

It just wasn’t fair. Dean had been through so much – not only in the previous timeline, but also in this one – and this was his reward? To be a puppet for the most powerful being currently around? Sam could physically feel his faith in God – Chuck – whoever – fading, and it wasn’t a very nice feeling whatsoever.

Lost in thought, Sam didn’t even realise he was back at the bunker until he’d pulled into the garage and killed the engine. He blinked and shook his head, then patted Baby’s steering wheel with a melancholy little sigh.

“We’ll get Dean back, girl,” he said, not even sounding convincing to himself. Baby didn’t respond, but the leather of her steering wheel felt just that bit colder to Sam’s touch. Great. Even Baby was miserable. She still ran sweet as a nut but without Dean’s loving hand to touch her up, she felt exactly as she had when Dean was in Hell: mourning and lifeless.

Unable to justify sitting in Baby for the rest of the day – hell, make that the rest of the year – Sam slid out and locked her up, then shuffled out of the garage and into the main bunker. And hey, he blamed Dean’s current predicament for his lack of guard, because it took him a few moments to notice the stranger standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the main room rather than the seconds it normally would have taken.

“What the –” Sam whipped out his gun and aimed it at the stranger. The man looked to be very young – possibly only just in his twenties – with pale brown hair neatly falling to one side and bright blue eyes, very much like Castiel’s. He didn’t look anything out of the ordinary – he was wearing jeans and a brown patterned sweater – but the way he carried himself was very stiff and just screamed ‘not used to having a human body’. Plus, there was also the matter of how the heck he’d gotten into their secret warded bunker in the first place.

“Hello!” The man beamed and held up his hand and waved, but the action was slightly off, as though rehearsed. “You’re Sam Winchester. The correct one this time, I hope.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sam demanded. “And how’d you get in here?”

“I flew.” The man’s brow furrowed, as though he’d been asked a question with an extremely obvious answer. “I wanted to be here, so I was. Actually, it took me many tries, but I made it!”

“You flew? You’re an angel?” Sam’s grip on his gun tightened. “When did you get here? How? Why?”

“I arrived approximately six minutes and thirty-nine seconds ago. I sense that there’s a fallen angel and an archangel here – Castiel and one who I don’t know – and one human who feels like you but also not like you. I don’t think they’ve noticed my presence yet.”

Castiel, Gabriel, and Henry. But just how did this stranger know? And where had Mary and Anna gone?

“Again, who are you? If you’re an angel, you can –”

“I’m not an angel. Not fully. I’m a naphil.” The man held out his hand, like they were going to shake hands or something “My name is Jack Kline and I’m searching for Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Have a second chapter today purely because it's so short.

 

“Oh my god, seriously?” Dean took in the picnic blanket spread on the grass outside the bunker, complete with candelabrum and everything. Where Castiel had found that thing, Dean had no idea. Probably stashed away in the bunker, meaning that there was seventy percent chance that it was cursed. Ah, well.

“I hope I didn’t ‘go overboard’,” Castiel said with air quotes and all. “I just – after everything you’ve been through, I wanted to do something nice for you –”

“Shut up. It’s cool.”

A smile spread across Castiel’s face, wider than normal, and he gestured for Dean to join him. Dean leaned in to kiss him on the way and the angel hummed, cupping Dean’s jaw –

But.

But something wasn’t right. Castiel didn’t taste right. He was missing that fresh taste, the inner warmth that always drove Dean wild –

He was flat.

It wasn’t him.

Another one. Another illusion. Dean broke away to make a run for it – maybe he could get out this time –

_But now he’s drowning. Everything’s black. He can’t breathe – can’t draw in breath – his mind is suffocating, choking, oppressive – where is he – he’s lost in his own head –_

_“Be_ quiet _¸ Dean! Stop struggling!”_

_Please –_

_Please – someone – can’t do this anymore – no escape – never any escape…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Ghost, Michellesca95 and LexioBlack for your comments :)

 

Sam just blinked and stared at Jack Kline, his brain hurtling from thought to thought at a million miles an hour. A naphil? A half-angel? But weren’t they forbidden? And Jack was a fully-grown man, so he had to be at least twenty years old. Wouldn’t there have been signs or something before now?

But then something Jack had just said but that Sam had totally overlooked came rushing back to him: “the correct one this time”. And “it took me many tries”.

“You’re not from here,” Sam concluded, grip still tight on his gun. “Not this timeline, anyway.”

“No!” Jack said, still beaming. “I had to learn how to travel between timelines all on my own. It’s rather difficult, and I don’t think I could have done it without understanding quantum mechanics and –”

“Okay, okay.” Sam held up a hand. “Just…stop. What’s your deal? Why do you want to find Dean?”

Jack’s answer floored Sam and nearly made him drop his gun.

“Because he’s the only person from my timeline that I can find.”

Sam blinked. Then he blinked again, just for good measure. And then he shook his head and sank down into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, not really giving a crap that he’d just left himself vulnerable to a total stranger whose trustworthiness he had yet to verify. Then again, if Jack was powerful enough to travel between timelines, there wasn’t really much Sam could do.

“Dean said his timeline got erased,” Sam said. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Jack sitting down rather neatly, and he shook his head again and looked up. “So, you can’t be from there. He was pretty damn clear –”

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” Jack said. “I heard my grandfather and Dean and you talking about Dean being sent back in time. I knew that I was going to be erased from existence. I…can’t really explain it, but…I suppose I acted instinctively to avoid that fate and threw myself into another timeline. Once I realised I could do that, I had to work really hard to learn how to transport myself. In fact, I had to seek out dreamwalkers at first so that I could practice, and I’ve been trying for three months –”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Sam interrupted. “Dean’s never mentioned you before. For all I know, you could be trying to kill him.”

“Kill him?” Jack looked positively aghast. “I would never kill Dean! I – I’ve already hurt him enough.”

Sam raised his gun ever so slightly, though he wasn’t so sure that bullets would even do anything to Jack. “Not exactly arguing your case about me trusting you.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Jack looked down at his lap, toying with his fingers. “I – when I was being born, I opened a rift into another world. From what I know, you and Dean tried to imprison my biological father there…but he killed Castiel. It’s my fault! And now I need to make things right with Dean!”

“Why? And who’s your father?” Nausea was starting to simmer in Sam’s gut. Dean had barely talked about Castiel’s final death in the other timeline, but he’d been very clear about who Castiel’s killer had been. And if Jack was saying what Sam thought he was saying –

“Lucifer.” Jack’s voice was barely audible. “I haven’t met him, and I don’t want to – but I heard his name before I was born. And I saw Dean’s grief.”

Silence. Dead silence permeated the room while Sam tried to process the fact that he was talking to the _spawn of Satan_. And okay, he’d be the first to argue that one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and blood didn’t define you and whatever, but considering that he’d lost Dean because of Lucifer? That he may never see his brother again because of Jack’s father’s temper tantrum? Well, judging by how dark he’d gone after the Mystery Spot, no one could argue that he handled grief well.

“I know you hate me,” Jack said quickly, pleadingly. “And I don’t blame you. I know I shouldn’t exist. Just – just please let me speak to Dean. I’ve been searching for him for months – I chose Castiel as my father from in my mom’s womb, you know, and I could feel his love for Dean – and I promised Castiel that he would have paradise! That he and Dean could be happy!” Jack covered his face with his hands. “But Castiel died because of me – it’s all my fault – and I could feel Dean’s pain, I knew he hated me, and I just wanted to make it all right again and prove that I’m not a monster when I realised that I hadn’t been wiped out of existence –”

“Whoa. Whoa. Okay, slow down.” Sam dropped his gun on the table, unable to take his eyes off the distraught man in front of him. Logic dictated that he shouldn’t believe Jack. This whole story about choosing Castiel as his father and wanting to make Dean happy and whatever? Sam had heard far more convincing from people far more trustworthy. But…there was something about Jack. Something almost child-like. Sam didn’t doubt his ability to lie, but Sam also had decades of experience-built instinct and Jack wasn’t pinging any of his lie radars.

“At least let me speak to Dean,” Jack pleaded. “Then I’ll leave if you don’t want me here. I promise.”

“Dean’s…not available right now.” Something Jack had said made Sam pause. “Wait, you said this rift was made when you were born. Which would’ve been 2017. And you said you’ve been hopping timelines for three months, so unless there’s some physics thing about stretching time –”

“No, I really am three months old.” Jack gave a weak little smile. “I heard my mother talking to me when I was inside her. About how the world was a cruel, dangerous place and I couldn’t be a child. So…I had to grow up. And my mother told me that Castiel would protect me, so I chose him as my father.”

“You were born as an adult?” Sam’s eyebrows flew up. Part of him wanted to deny this as utter bullshit, and yet…it wasn’t like they actually knew anything about nephilim. Hell, if Dean had only caught a glimpse of Jack before coming back in time, it would make sense that he wouldn’t know anything either. And if he held Jack responsible for Castiel’s death like Jack was doing to himself, it also made sense that Dean wouldn’t particularly want to talk about it. A decade on and he still wasn’t exactly that free with his emotions.

“I suppose? I don’t feel much like one.” Jack’s shoulders slumped. “I killed my mother too. She died giving birth to me. She knew it would happen but – but she still did it! And…” Jack’s breath hitched. “She tried to kill herself. To kill me. I don’t remember much from inside her, but I – I remember her soul fading. And I remember panicking and fixing it so that I wouldn’t die, and it was only then that she started to really love me. Maybe I should have died. Maybe Dean wouldn’t have lost Castiel and gone through all this pain if I hadn’t –”

“Hey.” Cautiously, Sam reached out and patted Jack on the shoulder. He still wasn’t entirely sure that he trusted Jack yet, especially being the son of an alternate Lucifer, but no one could act as brilliantly as this. Especially not someone who was only three months old. So, for now, he’d just have to take Jack at his word. “You can’t torture yourself over stuff like that. Take it from me. You can sit there agonising over what you should’ve done forever, but that won’t change it. Unless you’re Dean and God likes you.” He shook his head, wondering what his life had come to in order to warrant that sentence coming from his mouth.

“Where is Dean?” Jack said softly. “You’ve avoided my question multiple times. Did something happen to him? Is he dead? I can bring him back! I’m not good at resurrecting people yet, but –”

“Dean’s not dead,” Sam said sharply. He took a deep breath and swiped a hand over his eyes. “He’s…there’s been this prophecy for millennia. That Michael and Lucifer would fight and bring on the Apocalypse. But angels need vessels, and archangels need very specific vessels. I’m – well, I was supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel. And apparently, I said yes in the other timeline to shove Lucifer back in the Cage, but…Dean came back to stop that.”

The way Jack was staring at Sam with a new light in his eyes made Sam shift in his seat. Did Jack feel some sort of kinship now? That’d be fun; bonding sessions between Lucifer’s son and Lucifer’s true vessel.

Sam blinked. When did he start sounding so much like Dean?

“And Dean was supposed to be Michael’s vessel?” Jack guessed. “Then –” His eyes, so much like Castiel’s, bulged in a way that Castiel’s had never done. “Michael’s possessing Dean? But why? Why would Dean do that if he knew –”

“Cas was being tortured,” Sam snapped. “And Dean thinks so low of himself that he throws himself in the fire for us in a heartbeat. So now Michael’s trying to ‘purge the earth of sin’, and Lucifer’s human because Michael took his grace –”

“I can help!” Jack leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “I want to help! I’ve been practicing with my powers and I’ve exorcised and killed angels before in other timelines, so I might be able to pull Michael out of Dean –”

“What?” For the first time, a glimmer of hope started to spark in Sam’s chest. “You can do that? Michael’s an archangel –”

“I have to try.” Jack clenched his fists. “I want to help Dean. And I can feel Castiel’s misery from here like it’s my own. This might not be the Castiel I chose before I was born, but it’s still Castiel. Dean still loves him. Even if I fail, I can’t sit by and do nothing while –”

“While what?” a painfully familiar voice said. Sam leapt out of his seat and whirled, scrambling for his gun, while behind him came the sound of crashing and cursing as Castiel and Gabriel appeared from the hallway. The green eyes that greeted Sam were hauntingly familiar, yet coldly distant and foreign to him.

“Michael,” Sam whispered. Michael’s lips – _Dean’s_ lips – curved into a humourless smile.

“Hello, Samuel. What are you doing with a naphil?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.

Automatically, Sam angled himself in front of Jack as protection, immediately attempting to rationalise this as his instinct of protecting others and not any sort of budding affection for the strange naphil who’d fallen into the bunker and started to win him over. Though Sam’s eyes were fixed right on Michael, he could feel the presence of Castiel and Gabriel behind him, drawing level with Jack.

“You’re threatened?” Michael tilted his head. “Why, Sam? I thought you loved your brother. That you felt safe and protected with him.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sam snarled. “You’re not Dean.”

Michael just shrugged. He looked even less like Dean now, dressed in a sharp black suit and green tie instead of Dean’s usual jeans and plaid combo. The sight physically pained Sam deep in his core. Since when did Dean ever wear suits outside of pretending to be FBI? And even then, it took at least ten minutes of bitching before they were even ready to go and do fake FBI business. And he’d _never_ worn a suit this expensive in his life. Dean would positively be howling at the knowledge that he looked like a rich dick.

“Look, Mikey, you made your point.” Gabriel’s voice was dull and hollow, as though the very life had been sucked out of him by a vampire. “You win. Goodie for you. Fuck off and let us wallow in our defeat without your smug face up our asses.”

“I assure you, Gabriel, I take no pleasure in your pain,” Michael said. “In fact, if you were to return to your family, you would be welcomed with open arms.”

“Family?” Gabriel doubled over, laughing long and loud. Castiel sidled up next to Sam, blue eyes narrowed and fixed on Michael. “Ah, that’s a good one. And I thought I was a bag of dicks. Least I’m upfront about being an asshole.”

“Leave Dean,” Castiel growled. “You defeated Lucifer. He’s human now. You have no more use for Dean.”

“Oh, but I do, Castiel.” Michael smoothed down his suit. “This planet is…sad. Humanity has been led so far astray since Lucifer first corrupted Lilith and turned Adam and Eve to sin. Do you really think that this is what Father had in mind for his ‘greatest creations’?”

“I don’t presume to speak for Father,” Castiel said shortly. “And neither should you.”

“Unlike you, I’ve spoken to him. Truly spoken to him, not been deceived by his…rather convincing prophet guise.” A small, cold smile crossed Michael’s lips. “See, why would I give up Dean as a vessel? Why would I give up this veritable wealth of information? I can foresee future events now. I know precisely what happened last time and how to fix things. And I also know that Jack Kline here – my dear nephew, the spawn of little brother Lucifer – shouldn’t even exist.”

“Leave Dean alone.” Jack stepped forward, fists clenched and trembling, and Sam had to fight off the urge to shove the kid back from Michael. “You’re a monster.”

“Hold the fuck up,” Gabriel said. “Lucifer’s kid? Since when was Luci around to pop out spawn? And why didn’t I feel you?”

“I tried to shield my presence when I got here so I didn’t alert anyone bad,” Jack said. “But it must not have worked properly, or maybe it only worked for a certain distance around me. And I’m not the son of this Lucifer. I’m from Dean’s timeline and I’ve come to help him.”

“Help him? He can’t even stand you!” Michael said. “He blames you for the other Castiel’s death. And rightly so, considering the circumstances of your birth. Barely out of the womb and already a killer. You truly are half-human.”

Flinching as though he’d been physically struck, Jack looked down at the ground. Next to Sam, Castiel was openly staring at Jack, while Gabriel stopped at Sam’s other side so that Jack was fully shielded from Michael.

“Fuck off, Mikey,” Gabriel said, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. At least, they were dangerous from Sam’s perspective, though they probably just looked ‘cute younger brother trying to be tough’ to Michael. “You know the human parents never survive giving birth. No need to blame it on the kid. Why are you here if you’re not gonna rub it in our faces?”

“I came to investigate the new arrival,” Michael said. “What else? I was curious about the spawn of an archangel. None of us have ever conceived nephilim before – and rightly so, since the power of a naphil is far greater than its sire.”

Sam was suddenly shoved out of the way. He stumbled, catching his balance on Castiel, and turned to try and pull Jack back, but found that he couldn’t move from shock. Jack’s eyes weren’t blue any longer. They were bright gold.

“Jack –” Sam tried to say.

“Leave Dean _now_!” Jack ordered, holding out his hand. A blast of golden energy slammed into Michael, rooting him to the spot, and he threw back his head and started to convulse. Dean’s agonised cries filled the air, and it took every tiny scrap of willpower Sam had not to launch himself at Jack and forcibly stop him from doing whatever naphil thing he was doing because he was _hurting Dean_!

But whatever Jack was doing was clearly not strong enough. The wave of energy died down and Jack stumbled backwards, only saved from collapsing by Gabriel catching him from behind. Michael shook his head and stretched, then let out a mocking laugh.

“Not powerful enough yet, are you?” he said to Jack, whose now-blue eyes were wide and staring straight at him. “At least, not powerful enough to pull me out without also killing Dean. Ordinary angels are nothing compared to the likes of me, boy. You’re far too young and inexperienced.”

When Michael advanced on Jack, he was swiftly blocked by Sam and Castiel. It wasn’t as though Sam was particularly attached to Jack yet, but anyone who was against Michael was most definitely an ally right now. Especially since Jack _had_ tried to kick Michael out and _had_ chosen to stop rather than risk killing Dean, and Michael clearly saw him as powerful enough to come and investigate personally. Michael paused, as though weighing up whether it would be worth blasting them to ashes to get to Jack.

“I should put you down before you can grow into a threat,” Michael said. “But even I don’t agree with killing children, even abominations like you.”

“Listen to yourself!” Sam loomed over Michael, though he was very much aware that this was in body height only. “Are you really any better than Lucifer? Lucifer’s plan was to kill off the planet and he stood there and threatened us and made a dick of himself. And you’re doing the exact same thing. Hell, your minion tortured Cas to force Dean to say yes! What makes you any better than him? You’re throwing a tantrum just like him! And all because God spoke to Dean and not –”

The next second, Sam couldn’t breathe as a hand clamped around his windpipe and squeezed. Castiel charged, though there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell that he’d actually do anything to hurt Dean, and Michael lazily waved his other hand to send Castiel crashing into the table. Idly, Sam wondered how the hell Henry hadn’t heard the commotion and come running. Or maybe he was doing the smart thing and hiding from the pissed archangel.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that way,” Michael hissed. “You know nothing, Samuel Winchester. I –” His face contorted, and he shook his head and mumbled, “No – don’t hurt him –”

“Dean?” Sam rasped, his heart leaping into his throat. Michael released him and backed off, furiously shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Fight him, Dean!”

“Sammy.” Dean’s wild eyes met Sam’s, and Sam could have cried at the familiar spark behind them once again. “He’s – he’s too strong –”

“You have to fight him!” Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders and squeezed, as though this was enough to force Michael out. “Kick him out!”

Castiel was there in a heartbeat, slithering up beside Sam and cupping Dean’s face. “Dean,” he said frantically. “Revoke your consent. Force him out. I know you can do this. You _have_ to.” He leaned in and kissed Dean straight on the mouth, and Sam dared to hope for a wild moment that this was enough to force Michael out…but then Dean’s stance shifted under Sam’s fingers. He squared his shoulders, and Castiel abruptly broke the kiss and grabbed Sam by the arm to pull him away from Dean – no, Michael now.

“Alright,” Michael growled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Sam’s heart sank past his stomach. “No touching the loved ones. I get it.” He looked Sam dead in the eye. “Count this as the only victory you’ll have against me, Samuel Winchester, despite its insignificance. I may not be able to harm you myself, but there are ways to take you out. And your little naphil too.”

“Hey, I always knew Samsquatch was Dorothy,” Gabriel quipped, though any humour was very much absent. Michael shot Gabriel an absolutely scathing look and then disappeared, wings rustling in his wake. Silence fell on the room.

“I failed.” Sam whirled to face Jack, who shook himself free of Gabriel and sank down into a chair, face in his hands. “I wasn’t powerful enough. I failed!”

“That wasn’t your fault, Jack,” Sam said firmly. In this very moment, it was cemented for him that Jack was innocent and that he _did_ mean well. If Jack truly wanted to screw them over now, he had to be one hell of a damn fine actor. “You tried, okay? You can train and get more powerful –”

“What if it’s too late by then?” Jack looked up, bottom lip trembling. “You heard Michael! It took me three months to even have this much control over my powers, and I – I still hurt people! I just hurt Dean! I’ll never be good enough! I’ll never be _good_!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Gabriel said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “Calm your tits, kiddo. I’ve only known you for five minutes and you’re pretty good to me. Speaking of, mind explaining why I’ve got a nephew from another timeline in this place?”

Sam quickly explained everything Jack had told him. When he got to the part about choosing Castiel in the womb and promising him paradise, Castiel’s gaze fixed on Jack sharply, and Jack swallowed and looked away.

“Well, shit,” Gabriel said when Sam had finished explaining. There was no hint of joking in the archangel’s voice at all. “I mean – well, shit. All I can say, really. But hey, sounds to me like Jack’s a damn good person so far.”

“How can I be?” Jack’s voice hitched. “I’m the son of Lucifer. I’ve hurt more people than I’ve helped because I wasn’t good enough or I lost control of my powers. I killed an innocent man once in the first timeline I jumped to! I tried to save him from a werewolf, but I ended up shoving him into the werewolf and he – he –”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Castiel who pulled Jack up into a tight hug, stroking his back reassuringly but stiffly, like paternal affection was a completely alien concept and he was fulfilling an obligation but also trying his best. Jack shuddered and melted into the embrace, burying his face in Castiel’s shoulder and gripping fistfuls of the back of Castiel’s trench coat.

“Every timeline I land in,” Jack choked out, his voice muffled. “I always hurt Sam and Dean in some way. I – I even _killed_ Dean in one timeline! I’ll never – I can’t ever stop hurting people –”

“We all make mistakes, Jack,” Castiel said. “I don’t know everything that Dean has gone through, but I know that if he was here, he would tell you that you shouldn’t dwell on your mistakes but rather learn from them and move on. Of course, he’s also a gigantic hypocrite who refuses to allow himself to move on from his mistakes, but it would still be the truth.”

Jack didn’t say anything. If Sam was in the right state of mind, he would’ve been right over there with Castiel, helping him reassure Jack – especially because if Jack _could_ learn to master his powers, he _could_ help get Dean back. But Sam was not in the right state of mind and he would probably just make things worse. It was for that reason that he instead excused himself and shut himself away in his room, pacing with clenched fists and using every shred of willpower he had to not completely demolish the place.

“Why?” he demanded of the ceiling. “Why is this happening?”

Of course, the ceiling didn’t answer.

“You promised! You promised things would be better for Dean if he came back and changed things! You think Dean deserves this after everything he’s been through?”

Sam wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to happen. Maybe for God to come descending from the heavens, smiling serenely and saying that everything happened for a reason and to just be patient? It was probably for the best that he didn’t do that. He likely knew that Sam would punch him right in his bearded prophet face if he showed it. But the lack of response just made Sam’s anger boil right over.

“You’re a coward!” he shouted. “I always thought you were so wise and that I just had to have faith and things would work out! But you’re just a coward who used my brother to do your dirty work! And now you’ve tossed him aside like – like _garbage_ now that things got tough, just so you don’t have to face your sons! You know what? You need to actually be a father and sort your kids out! And if this second chance is about fixing things, you can’t act like you’re the only one it doesn’t apply to!”

Sam was half-expecting to get the shit smote out of him for what he was saying to _God_. But it seemed that God really took the indifference thing seriously, because there was absolutely no response. Sam didn’t even get one of those weird headaches that Dean used to get whenever he badmouthed God, and it was this thought of Dean that drove Sam over the edge. With a yell, he turned and kicked his bed as hard as he could, the wood creaking ominously but thankfully not breaking.

Okay. Deep breath. Taking it out on his bed wasn’t the answer. But taking it out on the antiquated gym equipment in the training room was perfect. He stalked over to the door and yanked it open –

Only to end up face-to-face with Henry, fist raised to knock and a look of alarm on his face.

“Ah – I apologise for interrupting,” Henry said, slowly lowering his fist. “But I finished my research for today and I heard your anger and thought I would – have I missed something?”

“Henry, you missed a _lot_ ,” Sam laughed darkly. “Where are Mom and Anna?”

“They decided to go shopping for food while you were out. What happened?”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was a habit he’d picked up from Dean to be more like his big brother, not that he’d ever admit it, but now it just caused a deep pang to throb in his chest. “You’d better come in and sit down. It’s a long story.”

By the time Sam had finished explaining his summoning of Raphael (“You summoned an _archangel_ by yourself, Sam? What kind of foolish –”), Jack’s timeline-hopping arrival, and Michael’s little visit, Henry was slumped on the edge of Sam’s bed with his head in his hands. Whether this was despair or just being utterly overwhelmed from everything to take in at once, Sam had no idea, but the guy had been through a _lot_ since his arrival in this time.

“How didn’t you hear any of this?” Sam said when Henry didn’t say anything for another minute. “It’s not like we were exactly quiet about being thrown around and yelling at the homicidal archangel.”

A dark flush crept up Henry’s forehead from behind his hands. “I…may have developed a fondness for Latin love songs,” he mumbled. “It’s very passionate music, even with the softer songs. I like to listen to it with noise-cancelling headphones when I’m working. Especially Enrique Iglesias.”

“You’re into passionate love songs?” was all a slightly bewildered Sam could say. Henry’s flush darkened.

“Don’t mock me!” he snapped.

“What – I’m not!” Sam shook his head. “That’s not even the point. You should come and meet Jack and then when Mom and Anna get back, we can start to plan how to –”

Whatever they were going to plan was left unsaid. Before Sam could finish his sentence, a wild-eyed Castiel appeared in the door.

“Sam,” he blurted out. “There’s a problem. Jack is gone.”

“Gone?” Sam jumped to his feet. “What, like _gone_?”

“Yes. But that’s not all. Mary and Anna are back and…” Castiel hesitated, eyes darting from Sam for a moment before he said, “And they have Lucifer with them.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Ghost and Elmyrah for your comments :)

 

_“Please! Have mercy!”_

_Blinding white light. The man collapses, eyes burned out._

_He did that. His hand is the one that smote the man._

_It’s odd. He can’t really see. Not like a normal person. But he gets flashes. Scenes._

_Sometimes he wonders if this is all just a dream. Then he realises._

_“Get out! Out!”_

_Now he can see clearly. He’s standing in front of a mirror…but that’s not him. His face, his body, his dark green eyes, but not_ him _._

“Hello, Dean.” Michael brushed down his expensive suit, unwrinkling microscopic flaws that probably weren’t even there in the first place. “Interesting. You’re growing stronger. You’ve been waking up more and more often. Our encounter with Sam and the others an hour before now seems to have solidified that.”

Correction: Dean wasn’t standing in front of the mirror. Dean was _in_ the mirror. He stared back at his body, strikingly familiar but hauntingly foreign, not recognising the intelligence between those green eyes. Michael was his body. Dean was his reflection.

Maybe they really were one and the same. But no, they couldn’t be. Michael had been killing. Smiting. Dean could still feel the power, the extinguishing of life as the soul left the meat suit. It wasn’t him. But it _was_ him.

“Get the hell out of my body,” Dean snarled. His fists clenched, though the disconnect between his mental self and his relaxed physical hands was jarring.

“No.” Michael’s smile was cold, devoid of any emotion. “Why should I? Father doesn’t care. He’s not coming back. Why should I care about the insects he ordered me to love if he’s not going to be here either way?”

“So, you’re just a petty bitch who wants Daddy’s approval.” Dean grinned, but it was all teeth. “Maybe that’s why he ain’t comin’ back.”

“Or maybe I need to act more like dear Lucifer,” Michael said lightly. “Seeing as how his temper tantrum was rewarded by Father, while the other version of me was left to rot in the Cage for no reason other than doing as I was told. Maybe Lucifer was right.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your family drama. Get. _Out_.”

“Hmm…no. This body is mine, Dean Winchester, as was foretold.”

“Well, I revoke my permission! You gotta get _out_. Just like Gadreel.”

“Gadreel was nowhere near my status.” Michael’s cold smile was totally out of place on Dean’s face. Was it Dean’s face anymore? “And he was distracted by that _demon_ long enough for Sam to compose himself. _I_ am an archangel and I could lock you away in your own mind so tightly that you would not even realise that you were alive. So, go ahead. Try and cast me out. See if you can do so before I shut you down.”

“Then why not keep me locked down all the time?” Dean growled.

“I feel that you deserve to see what your body is doing. We are sharing, after all. And sometimes I like to make you more comfortable by surrounding you with familiar faces.”

“That’s not it.” Dean jabbed a finger at Michael. “You’re a petty little bitch. I reckon you’re still pissed from what you saw in my head, so you’re punishin’ me for no reason. And whatever illusions you shove me in are just torture – they ain’t comfort. You can’t shut me up, so you’re tryin’ to break me.”

Michael shrugged rather carelessly. Over his shoulder, Dean caught sight of the crumpled corpse of the man Michael had smote.

“I thought you would approve,” Michael said, following Dean’s gaze. “The Righteous Man, spreading righteousness and justice.”

“I don’t go killin’ innocent people! That’s not right!”

“Innocent?” Michael smiled once again. “He killed his own wife and daughter, Dean. There was never enough evidence to punish him, so I took matters into my own hands. Nobody is innocent. You of all people should know that…just look at your memories.”

“I never fuckin’ pretended that I _was_ innocent.”

“Then you should be in agreeance with my actions.” Michael clasped his hands in front of him neatly. “Why are you so horrified by my actions, Dean? I’m only punishing those who deserve it. I’m not like Lucifer, killing indiscriminately. In fact, I’m much more like Gabriel, wouldn’t you say?”

“Gabriel is _ten times_ the archangel you are,” Dean snarled. “And I didn’t agree with him doin’ his trickster shit either. But at least he can look at himself in the mirror and not come up with a crock of bullshit to justify what he does, ‘cause he knows he’s not perfect and he doesn’t pretend he is. And he did what he did for _family_ , not to be the good son –”

“Be _quiet_!” Michael slammed his fist into the mirror. Scarlet blood trickled down his hand in sluggish streams, but he didn’t seem to care or even notice. “You know _nothing_ of my family, Dean Winchester! I’ve done _everything_ for my family! I _want_ Lucifer to repent! I _want_ Gabriel to come back!”

“So, you took Lucifer’s grace and then decided to throw a tantrum at the humans?” Dean said. “Doesn’t seem very family-like to me.”

He’d gone too far. Before he could do anything else, a seething Michael raised his bloody fist and clenched, and Dean once again found himself falling –

_Submerged. Drowning in the dark. He can’t see – can’t feel – can’t breathe – once again trapped in his own mind – when will the others take Michael down? They have to. At any cost. Even his life._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Zeppelin_Rules, Karategrl80 and MagaJV for your comments :)

 

“ _What_?” Sam nearly grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat and shook, but he somehow managed to contain himself. “ _Lucifer_? But he’s – he’s human! Michael took his grace! I saw it with my own eyes!”

“I’m well aware,” Castiel said acidly. “He encountered Mary and Anna and claimed to want to help us with our ‘Michael problem’.”

“Please tell me they weren’t foolish enough to believe him,” Henry said. He was still sitting on Sam’s bed, though his face was no longer buried in his hands and his embarrassed flush had faded.

“Of course they weren’t,” Castiel said. “He’s probably fearful that Michael will eventually find him and ‘finish the job’, so he’s hiding behind us.”

Sam wanted to snarl about helping, but he couldn’t even side with Michael on _this_. Not when Michael was currently taking his brother’s body for a joyride. So, he stayed silent.

“He seems the sort to play the situation to his advantage however he can,” Henry said. “So, I believe that that could very well be the situation. But I also believe that he would quite happily betray us when in a position of power.”

“Look, let’s…” Sam closed his eyes for a moment. “Let’s focus on Jack right now. What the hell happened?”

“He said that he was too weak to be of use and that he would eventually hurt us and…he left.” Castiel looked down. “He flew off before I could convince him that he would be more help to us by staying.”

Sam let out an explosive breath. Okay. Priorities. Jack was gone right now and as important as it was to find him, the more pressing issue at hand was the freaking _Devil_ currently a few rooms away.

“First things first,” Sam said. “Let’s just…go and deal with Lucifer.” He stalked out of the room before Castiel and Henry could say anything and made it to the end of the hallway before they caught up, Henry out of breath but thankfully not panting after that slight exertion like he would have when he first landed in 2010. Pausing at the door, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Sam had half-been expecting utter chaos in the room, so it was a pleasant surprise to see that there were no dead bodies or broken furniture or bloodstained books. Though the utter scorn on Mary’s face and Anna’s look of contempt as they regarded the blond, scratched-up man slouched lazily in a chair were definitely out of place, as was the blond man himself. Gabriel stood nearby, arms crossed and entire posture just screaming “fuck off”.

“Sammy!” A grin spread over Lucifer’s face, which was half-covered in blood, and he held his arms out as though in welcome. Or maybe as though he was Jesus. Considering the victimised whining he’d done in Sam’s dreams, that assessment might not have been too far off. “So good to see –”

Mary promptly punched him in the face.

“Ow, fuck!” Lucifer prodded his nose, glaring balefully at Mary. Now the blood coating the lower half of his face made sense. “When I said you were a firecracker, I didn’t mean it like this.”

“You said “with an ass like that, I can see the family resemblance in Sam”,” Gabriel said shortly. “Honestly, I woulda stabbed you. You’re lucky she’s only punching you.”

But Sam could see in Mary’s eyes that her hatred stretched far beyond disgusting comments and general assholery, and his curiosity was piqued as to what the other Lucifer must have done to warrant such loathing from his mother.

“What do you want, Lucifer?” Sam said, crossing his arms like Gabriel. “You’ve got five minutes. Then we’re throwing you out.”

“I just want to help my dear brother Gabriel and you, my perfect little vessel,” Lucifer said rather smoothly. “Michael’s gonna cream your asses.”

“Oh, and you think a burnt-out archangel will be of any help?” Anna said. “What could you possibly do for us that would make you useful in any way?”

“Mikey and I? We were like this.” Lucifer crossed two fingers. “Like two peas in a pod. Two birds of a feather. Two –”

Mary raised her fist again. Sam fought to suppress a smile at the sight.

“Okay, okay.” Lucifer held his hands up. “Look, I know Michael in ways that not even dear Gabriel knows. If anyone can help take him down without hurting that pretty piece of ass he’s riding –”

“Lucifer,” Castiel hissed. If that was a smidge of possessiveness in his voice, well, Sam wasn’t going to judge.

“– it’s me. And guess what? I’m offering my services to you. I want to help.”

“Rubbish,” Henry said. Sam blinked and stared at the man next to him, having forgotten that his grandfather was even there. “You’re Lucifer. From everything I’ve heard, you never want to just “help”. What do you want from this?”

“I’m wounded, Gramps,” Lucifer pouted. Memories of Dean calling Henry that nickname suddenly flooded to Sam’s mind, and he had to take a deep breath and clench his fists to avoid breaking down in some way. Out of the corner of his eye, Henry’s face told a similar story. “I offer my help and you spit in my face. Well, if I _must_ charge for my services, I want protection.”

Sam blinked. That was the last thing he’d ever expected to hear from Lucifer, and everybody else in the room looked similarly sceptical and taken aback. Using them as shields? Sure, that was feasible for him. But outright asking for protection?

“Protection? Who are you and what have you done with Lucifer?” Gabriel said. “The Luci I know would’ve shivved himself before admitting he needed help.”

“Times change, baby brother,” Lucifer shrugged. “I’m one of these puny squish beans now. And the more homicidal Mikey gets, the more likely he’s gonna forget about that brotherly bond stuff and decide that he wants to toast my ass. Don’t you need all the help you can get?”

“I still don’t believe you’d admit defeat over the _possibility_ of Michael coming to kill you,” Anna said. “And he can get into the bunker, so you’re not any safer here. You’d probably even be drawing more attention to yourself by hanging around us.”

“Alright, fine.” Lucifer threw his arms up. “You want the damn truth? I got ambushed by a pissed angel – a common little thing, rather like Cassie there, except not plucked – and barely made it out with my life. I had to get a _demon_ to bring me to Lebanon, since I can’t even fly, and I was lucky to run into Mary and Hadraniel when I did. Don’t worry, I’m not bringing a horde of demons to your little hideout,” he added when everybody jerked and stared at the bunker’s front door. “I made sure to exorcise him to cover my tracks. I would’ve killed him but, y’know, I’m kind of a mud monkey at the moment.”

Sam shared a look with Mary and Anna. As much as he hated to admit it, Lucifer’s story seemed to add up. It would explain why Lucifer looked like he’d gone two rounds with a WWE champion, and it would also explain how he had made it to Lebanon when he couldn’t fly. Plus, it did make sense that anti-Lucifer angels might take advantage of his weakened state to try and finish him off for good.

“So, I figure that I’m safer with the Brady Bunch,” Lucifer finished. “And if that means putting on a smile and pretending that I care and I’m a happy team player? I might be an asshole, but I’m a smart asshole.”

“You’re a great big bag of dicks,” Gabriel muttered. Lucifer shrugged.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve probably earned that. So…what do you say? Avengers assemble? Justice League unite?”

“Stop making human references when you hate us, for one?” Anna said. Lucifer tutted and shook his head.

“I still don’t understand why you would give up all that power to be – to be _this_ , Hadraniel. You said ‘us’, not ‘them’!”

“ _Anna_. I’m _Anna_. And we need to talk about this first. Without you.”

“Okay, okay.” Lucifer pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “I’ll go raid your kitchen or something. How do you survive when you need to eat all the time?”

“Guess we’re adaptable like that,” Sam said with a tight-lipped smile. Lucifer saluted and sauntered off for the bedroom hallway.

“Other door, jackass,” Gabriel drawled. With another salute, Lucifer made it to the door leading to the kitchen and disappeared, snapping it shut behind him.

“I don’t trust him,” Sam said straight away. “How do we know he’s not plotting with Michael or something?”

“Why would he be?” Anna said. “I don’t think he’s being totally honest either, but I also don’t think he’d side with Michael if he had nothing to gain.”

“You didn’t hear what Michael said when he broke in here,” Sam argued. “He tried to kill me, but Dean fought back. So, Michael said that he couldn’t hurt us himself but there were other ways to take us out.”

“Then he made a _Wizard of Oz_ reference,” Gabriel chimed in. Sam almost rolled his eyes, but he realised that humour was probably the only thing allowing Gabriel to cope right now, so he just let it go. Gabriel was very similar to Dean in a lot of ways, Sam had come to realise. “Look, I don’t think Mikey would do anything that would have even a chance of giving Lucifer his grace back. He wouldn’t let Lucifer become a threat again. And he also wouldn’t promise to give it back and then betray Lucifer. As much of a colossal dickbag as Mikey is, he always keeps his word. Never breaks a promise.”

“He did smite Barachiel for harming me,” Castiel said slowly. “He said that he had no wish to, but he had promised Dean. We may be able to use Lucifer.”

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed. “You can’t trust –”

“I don’t trust Lucifer as far as a human infant could throw him, to use one of your colloquialisms,” Castiel snarled. “But if there is even a chance that he can help us get Dean back, I’m willing to use him. And when he decides to betray us, I’ll put him down myself.”

It suddenly struck Sam that, in all his wallowing over Dean, he’d never once thought about his brother’s…boyfriend? Partner? Lover? He hadn’t checked to see how Castiel was; hell, he hadn’t even thought to ask once. It hadn’t occurred to him just how much Castiel might be suffering in all this, or even how far Castiel would go in a Winchester-style ‘save loved ones’ fashion, and a small pit started to settle in his stomach at the realisation.

“Look,” Gabriel said. “I don’t think he’ll be helpful in the long run. He’s gonna stab us in the back and fuck us over. But he _does_ know more about Michael than any of us. So…” He shrugged. “Either way, we’re fucked. Just a matter of whether it’s Mikey doing his purging or Lucifer gettin’ his power back and demolishing the world.”

“Mary?” Henry said. “What do you think? Next to Dean, you know more about future events than any of us. You encountered Lucifer before, did you not?”

Mary chewed her lip and fiddled with a lock of shoulder-length blonde hair, which she’d cut soon after arriving at the bunker “so I feel more like my better self and less like a lost mom”. Sam wondered if that was a reference to what Dean had told him about how she’d let them down in the other timeline, though she was very vehemently with him and everyone else now. Maybe she was trying to redeem herself, even though Sam could really understand why she might be overwhelmed and want to clear her head after finding her sons thirty years older in a heartbeat. Relentless self-flagellation was just the Winchester way, he supposed.

“I don’t trust him,” Mary finally said. “He’s slippery, he’s a snake, and he caused so much trouble in the year I was alive back in that timeline that I shudder to think of what more he could’ve done. Even in the other world I was trapped in with him, he was planning to use me as a bargaining chip to swap for Jack before Chuck rescued me.”

“He _what_?” Sam exclaimed.

“ _But_ ,” Mary continued, “he could also be that little bit of an extra push we need, even if we use him as some sort of sacrificial distraction. The only two people who would know enough are Dean and Gabriel – Dean because of his knowledge, and Gabriel because…well, you’re his brother. And if Gabriel says that he can’t be trusted…”

“I also said that if it’s not Lucifer who fucks us over, it’s Michael,” Gabriel said. “Either way, we’ll probably get fried. And so long as Luci stays human, we should be able to deal with him.”

“Famous last words,” Sam muttered, but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that the goal here was to get Dean back. “So…we’ll use his help?”

Everybody nodded, albeit very reluctantly. Sam heaved a huge sigh, wondering just how this would return to bite them in the ass.

“I’ll go tell him,” Gabriel said. “And you can come, Momma Winchester, ‘cause you’ve got the best damn right hook I’ve seen in a century.”

Mary smiled rather smugly and crossed over to kiss Sam on the cheek, then followed Gabriel to the kitchen.

“Now we just need to find Jack,” Sam said. “He could be anywhere! How are we going to –”

“Already found him,” Anna interrupted. “I’ve been sending out small, covert prayers for an hour. Enough to slip under the radar for those who aren’t actually listening in, but also enough for him to hear. What?” she added when Sam, Castiel, and Henry stared at her. “When your life depends on making sure that angels can’t hear you tuning in while you’re on the run, you tend to pick up a few quick tricks.”

“Simpler times,” Sam sighed, remembering back to the days where Lucifer was still locked away and it was just him and Dean and then a human Anna, along with Bobby’s regular input. As much as he was growing fond of his outlandish family, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he yearned for those simpler times. Had it really been just a year ago?

“You learned how to disguise your presence in a matter of days?” Castiel said in something almost akin to awe. Anna shrugged.

“Survival necessity. I also can’t actually be sure if I’m disguised, but I’m about ninety percent certain.”

“What did Jack say to you?” Sam said.

“He’s agreed to talk to us,” Anna said. “But he sounds pretty upset. Just a fair warning.”

“You three should go and talk to him,” Henry said. “I’ll return to my research and see if I can find anything else that could help us against Michael.”

Anna held out her hands for Sam and Castiel to take. Sam caught a brief glimpse of the way Castiel’s face twisted – no doubt at having to tag along like a human, without wings and power that had been stripped by falling – before the bunker around them flashed to black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> As much as I love Kelly and her fierce love for Jack and fight to control her own body, I also think it’s unrealistic that Jack wouldn’t have felt the negativity when she was convinced that Jack would destroy everyone and tried to kill herself – after all, Jack was aware enough to resurrect her and remember her love after being born, so he must have been aware enough to feel her revulsion.
> 
> And I apologise for the break in updating, but it’s taken this long for the side-effects of my meds to settle down since starting them in February.
> 
> Thanks to VioletOwl for your comment :)

 

In the blink of an eye, the three of them reappeared next to a lake with a small cabin situated a short distance away in the trees.

“Where the hell are we?” Sam said.

“North Cove, Washington,” Anna replied. “I don’t know why Jack is here, but this is where he told me to go.”

“I know this place.” Castiel let go of Anna’s hand and turned to survey his surroundings, squinting. “I saw it in one of Dean’s memories. This is where Lucifer killed my other version.”

“Then why would Jack come here?” Sam said, stomach lurching unpleasantly at the reminder that the other Castiel had died. Not only did he now consider Castiel a friend, he also saw the depth of love and affection that Dean had for this Castiel and he couldn’t imagine just how Dean would’ve coped if he hadn’t come back in time.

“Why don’t we ask him?” Anna pointed at a lone figure standing outside the house, staring at it with a tilted head that was eerily reminiscent of Castiel’s mannerism. She let go of Sam’s hand to approach the figure, Sam following with Castiel and mourning the loss of the warmth that Anna’s hand had provided. They drew level with Jack in a few moments and Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it at the lost look on Jack’s face.

“I was born here,” Jack said after a lengthy minute of silence. “I remember darkness and trying to get out of it to the light and a woman saying that she loved me…and then I was standing next to a dead woman. My – my mom.”

“Oh, Jack.” Anna rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed, not making a move to hug him or push any more contact. Jack looked down at his hands, where a small black USB was resting in his left palm.

“This is all I’ve got left of my mom,” Jack said thickly. “She recorded a message for me. She – she said I’d be amazing. But all I’ve done is hurt people in every timeline I land in. Would she – if she’d known what I’d be –”

“Don’t say that, Jack,” Sam said immediately. “Look, I don’t know your mom. But she could feel you, right? She’d know –”

“She tried to kill herself!” Jack shouted. Sam already knew this, but that didn’t stop the nausea that started to simmer in his gut. “She tried to – just so I wouldn’t go and destroy everything, after she spent months fighting so I wasn’t killed! And I was _selfish_ and didn’t want to die, so I brought her back! And then I showed her and Castiel a vision of paradise and – what if she didn’t really think I was good? What if I did something to her mind –”

“Jack.” Sam angled himself in front of Jack and grabbed Jack gently by the biceps. Jack looked up, blue eyes watery. “You know I was supposed to be Lucifer’s true vessel, right? A demon bled into my mouth when I was a baby and when I was twenty-three, I started getting visions. I had these weird powers and I didn’t know what to do with them, and I – I even started drinking demon blood.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, as though he was unable to comprehend why that might be bad or what that had to do with him. It suddenly struck Sam that, despite Jack’s physical age, he really _was_ just a child. No wonder he was having a meltdown like this, especially after having to grow up fast through his timeline traversing.

“I get what it’s like,” Sam said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Anna and Castiel retreating to give them some privacy, and his affection for the angels soared. “I know what it’s like to do nothing but hurt people. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done for demon blood if Dean hadn’t come back and stopped me. And I…” He took a deep breath and admitted something he’d never been able to vocalise before. “I know what it’s like to feel like your mom’s death was your fault.”

“How?” Jack demanded. “How could you know?”

“Because I’ve spent _years_ feeling responsible for my mom’s death.” Sam guided Jack to sit down on the grass with him. “Even before I knew about the demon blood, I felt responsible. The demon was in _my_ nursery. Mom wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t come in. And then – and then Dean got sent back to 1973. You know what he saw?”

Jack shook his head mutely.

“The demon who killed our mom? He made a deal with her. He possessed her dad and killed ours, then made a deal with her to bring our dad back if he could come to her house ten years later. If it wasn’t for me? Mom wouldn’t have died.”

“But that’s not true,” Jack said. “You didn’t ask for any of that. You weren’t even born when your mother made that deal!”

Sam smiled and nudged Jack’s arm. “And you didn’t ask for whatever happened in the other timeline. You didn’t ask for your mom to try and kill herself, or even to make that choice to protect you before and after she tried it. You weren’t even born, Jack.”

“But I was aware,” Jack said miserably. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember her wanting to protect me. I remember feeling this _vile_ thing with her and I hated it, so I asked Castiel to kill it with my help. I remember…” Jack looked down and sniffled. “I remember how disgusted and scared she felt before she tried to kill herself. My own mother hated me!”

Sam took a moment to breathe and order his thoughts before attempting to tackle this heavy topic. How exactly did one reassure a fully-grown child about their mother’s attempted suicide to kill them?

 “I can’t pretend I know how that feels,” he finally said. “But…I do know what it’s like to have a parent be disgusted with you even though they love you. My dad was a complete asshole, you know? A total son of a bitch. Nothing Dean and I did was ever good enough for him. And if I even _thought_ about seeing a monster as anything except a disgusting freak, Dad would look at me with that ‘you sicken me’ look. Dean had it even worse. And…you know, it would’ve been easier if he outright hated us. But he did love us, and that’s what made it so hard to deal with everything he did.”

Jack didn’t say anything, so Sam pressed on.

“I told you I didn’t know your mom. But you told me yourself that she said she loved you and you could feel it. I know that even though she got scared, she still loved you. Sometimes, the people who love us do things that hurt us. Dean loves me, but there’ve been so many times when he’s said horrible things to me or hit me –” Sam shook his head with a small laugh. “Wow, I make it sound like he’s abusive. He’s really not. And your mom loved you, Jack. I think she’d be so proud of you.”

“Why? I just hurt people, Sam. I didn’t even mean to stop myself from being erased from existence when Dean came back here…I was just selfish and ran.”

“That’s called self-preservation,” Sam said. “It’s completely instinctive. We all do desperate things when we’re in danger, but you were literally just born, with powers you didn’t know how to control thrown in too. And you could’ve just hidden and made a life for yourself, but you taught yourself how to jump timelines and spent three months tracking Dean down just so you could help him.”

“I’ve killed people! I couldn’t control my powers properly and – and I just wanted to help –”

“That’s not anything special. Dean and I…we’ve tried to help so many people and couldn’t.” Sam clapped Jack on the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “You can’t save everyone, Jack. I still beat myself up over everything I’ve done wrong, but that’s something I try to tell myself. People are going to die. People are going to get hurt. And of course you can’t control your powers properly. You’re only three months old.”

“Isn’t that a little…uncaring?” Jack said. “To just say that I couldn’t save them or that I couldn’t help it?”

“Not at all,” Sam said. “I still care about the people I couldn’t save. I just recognise that I couldn’t save them, or I’d drive myself mad beating myself up. You can care about them while also knowing that you can’t save every single person and you can’t always perfectly control your powers. You just realise what you’ve done wrong and learn from it.” He sighed and gave a small laugh. “That’s Dean’s problem, you know, even after he came back from the future. He still sees himself as responsible for every single other person on the planet, and he feels personally at fault if they die. You haven’t seen him beat himself up after a hunt if things go sideways.”

Jack nodded slowly, frowning, clearly deep in thought. Sam just sat there in silence, patiently letting Jack absorb and poke at the advice he’d just been given.

“Thank you, Sam,” Jack said suddenly. Sam fought not to jump in mild surprise, and he grinned back at Jack when the young man beamed at him. “I very much appreciate your help.”

“Feeling a bit better?” Sam said. Jack nodded.

“I am. I think this will still bother me but having things to tell myself really helps. No one’s ever told me anything like this. My mom…I know she said I’d be amazing and good, but…”

“But it’s hard to believe when everything you do falls apart?” Sam said. “Trust me, I know. And I know she would’ve meant it, but sometimes it can be even more annoying for people to say things like that. Sometimes you just need reality instead of reassurance.”

Jack nodded again, still smiling widely, and he pushed himself to his feet. Anna and Castiel returned as Sam was also standing up and brushing the grass off his jeans.

“May I talk to you alone, Jack?” Castiel said. Jack nodded and followed Castiel a short distance away.

“You’ve got a certain way with him,” Anna said to Sam with a smile.

“I just know that piling reassurance on someone doesn’t always help,” Sam shrugged. “And I figured that telling him about the whole Azazel thing would help him see that it’s not either of our faults. He couldn’t really help what happened when he was in his mom’s womb. Hell, that’s still something I’m working on, especially since – you know – Mom’s back and all.”

Anna just nodded at that and they stood in silence, watching Castiel and Jack standing near the house. What more was there to say?

“Okay, this is boring,” Anna said suddenly. “We look like we’re trying to eavesdrop. I challenge you to…” She looked around on the ground, then stooped to snatch up a glossy, round pebble. “Skipping rocks!”

“No,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “You’re an angel. You’ll know exactly the right angle and exactly the right pebbles to use.”

Anna smirked, one corner of her mouth upturned. With a smooth flick of her wrist, the pebble danced across the surface of the water…once…twice…three times…

“You see?” Sam said when the pebble finally sank after eight skips. “You’ve got an unfair advantage.”

Anna’s smirk widened, and she tossed her flaming red hair. “You’re just chicken, Winchester. It’s not like you haven’t gone up against more powerful things before.”

“Not in skipping rocks! Give me a fight any day and I’ll win or get resurrected when I die trying.”

“Is the great Sam Winchester admitting defeat?” Anna teased, bending down to grab another pebble. This time, she hit twelve skips before the pebble sank. “I’m holding back for you, Sam. The world record is fifty-one, and that wasn’t by an angel.”

“It’s not like you couldn’t break that record without blinking if you wanted to,” Sam said. Anna pursed her lips playfully.

“True,” she said. “But again, I’m holding back for you.”

“But not enough to give you a chance of losing?” Sam said. Anna laughed at that.

“Well, being an angel has _some_ perks,” she said, hazel eyes glimmering. Sam’s answering laugh was accompanied by the sudden realisation that this was the first time he’d properly laughed, let alone smiled, since Dean’s possession. So, rather than continue to pitch a fit about Anna’s advantage, he just shrugged.

“I dare you to break fifty-one, then,” he said. Anna’s raised eyebrow all but replied ‘challenge accepted’ but, when she went to retrieve another stone, Sam grabbed her around the waist and flung her into the lake. Caught by surprise, Anna didn’t even have time to react and flap away before she landed in the water with a loud splash.

“Anna!” Castiel and Jack were by the lakeside in a heartbeat, while Sam doubled over and laughed louder than he’d laughed in a long time. It was probably for that reason that Anna, sodden and glowering from the shallows of the water, chose not to retaliate and dump him right out in the middle of the lake like he knew she was capable of doing.

“This isn’t over,” Anna growled, an evil glint in her eye. “Now, if you’re done horsing around?”

“Are you staying with us?” Sam said to Jack, who nodded.

“I’m staying. I want to help in any way I can.”

“And besides,” Anna said, clambering to her feet, “you really don’t want Michael to get his hands on you, do you?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> This hasn’t been my greatest fic, and I’ve probably mucked up the pacing, but I’m strangely proud of it because I managed to write it all while stuck in a bad depressive episode and wasn't getting much else done. So even though it’s not as good as the first fic, I still think it’s at least good enough.
> 
> Thanks to Elmyrah for your comment :)

 

“Oh, come on!” Lucifer’s latest tantrum was what Sam walked into with dripping hair from his shower and bitchface ready to rumble. Dean would’ve been had a bitchface quip and a Samantha hair-washing quip all ready to go if he was here. “What did I do to deserve your ever so righteous contempt this time?”

“What’s going on?” Sam said, crossing his arms. Mary, Anna, Castiel, and Gabriel rolled their eyes, while Jack was eyeing Lucifer cautiously. Henry sat at the table nearby, utterly oblivious to what was going on around him.

“What makes you think it’s my fault?” Lucifer said rather petulantly. “Sammy, we’re kindred spirits! Don’t shaft me like this!” He winked. “Unless you wanna shaft me in another way?”

Mary, taking her unofficial role of ‘Devil punisher’ seriously, swung her foot out and slammed him in the shin. With a yelp, Lucifer fell back into his chair, cradling his injured leg.

“Ay, ay, ay,” Lucifer muttered. “I’m starting to feel like I’m not wanted here.”

“You’re not,” Sam said. “Does someone who’s not Lucifer mind telling me what’s going on?”

“ _Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco_ ,” Henry mumbled in the background, nose buried in his piece of paper, and Gabriel and Castiel’s faces twitched. Ever since Lucifer had ‘helpfully’ provided them with an exorcism for angels and Gabriel and Castiel had involuntarily confirmed its legitimacy by nearly being exorcised, Henry had devoted himself to memorising the incantation for when they inevitably encountered Michael again. Trusting Lucifer with something this important was out of the question.

“Luci was complaining about being “public enemy number one”,” Gabriel said. “As usual. And people say I bitch too much.”

“Lucifer’s always complaining,” Sam said. “I thought we were ignoring him.”

“Hello! Right here!” Lucifer said. Nobody paid him any mind.

“He let slip that he wanted to investigate the ‘spawn of Lucifer’ when regaling us once again with the tale of the angel who tried to kill him before he came here,” Castiel snarled. It was only then that Sam noticed how the angel had positioned himself half in front of Jack, as though shielding him from Lucifer. “I don’t know how he knows who Jack is but he’s not going to lay a finger on –”

“Wow, really?” Lucifer said. “You guys hate me that much?”

“Yes,” everyone apart from Henry, Gabriel, and Jack said.

“If it wasn’t for you, _none_ of this would have happened,” Mary growled. “I never would’ve been ripped away from my boys for all those years. They would have had a family! A normal life!”

“Buuuuut you lot wouldn’t be together in this li’l Brady Bunch, am I right?” Lucifer said, twirling his finger. “Cassie wouldn’t have his human to bone. And Gabe would still be wandering around, lost and all alone.”

“Sorry, we’re all out of gold stars,” Sam said shortly.

“Come on, Jack!” Lucifer turned to Jack, hands together in a mockery of a prayer. “I’m not the Lucifer who conceived you but I’m still your dad, right? Father and son, tag team duo, all for one and one for all?”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Jack said, taking a step away.

“Well, I can see why other me had you, kiddo,” Lucifer said with a winning smile, eyes gleaming. “You never know, fatherhood could be right up my alley. Just what I need. We’ll settle down on a farm somewhere, raise a cow or two, forget about this whole washed-up planet. Fuck the humans, am I right?”

“No. Castiel is my father, not you.”

“C’mon, you can’t seriously look me in the eye and tell me that there’s not one bit of you that’s not curious about your old man!”

To Sam’s astonishment, Jack’s eyes slid away from Lucifer and fixed on the other wall, and the young man said nothing. Although when he really thought about it, Sam wasn’t sure why he was surprised. As much as he’d fought and yelled at and generally hated John Winchester, there’d always been that small part that still looked up to his dad and imagined a John Winchester who was cool and nice and actually a good father.

“I don’t care how curious I am,” Jack said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “You’re a bad person. And you didn’t deny that you’re responsible for Sam and Mary’s lives being ruined. So, _you’re_ the reason Mary was killed and Sam and Dean didn’t have normal lives. _You hurt my friends_!”

Jack pushed Castiel out of the way and advanced on Lucifer, his eyes glowing bright gold. Lucifer didn’t look fearful in the slightest; if anything, he looked rather curious about the enraged naphil bearing down on him.

“Now, son –”

“ _You’re not my father_!”

“Hey, hey, whoa.” Gabriel jumped forward and grabbed Jack’s upper arm, tugging him back. “Kiddo, listen to Uncle Gabe when he tells you that it’s not worth it. This is the shit Luci does – he gets in your head.”

“Gabriel, Gabriel. Telling lies?” Lucifer pouted. Gabriel fixed him with an icy glare.

“I might not be able to bring myself to kill you, _brother_ ,” the younger archangel growled. “And I might not have the heart to kick you out and let the other angels have at you, but don’t even think for a second that I’ll go in to bat for you. You great, big bag of dicks.”

The room was pitched into silence when Gabriel turned on his heel and stormed down the bedroom hallway. Henry even looked up from his notes, brow furrowed like he’d only just realised that something was going on.

“I’ll go and talk to him,” Castiel said, shattering the uneasy, uncertain silence permeating the room. “Jack, he might want to see you too.”

All Sam had known of Gabriel before now was the loud, cocky, shit-talking trickster. Which made sense, considering that this was the image that the archangel projected as a defence mechanism, much like Dean’s swaggering confidence and sexy smirk. But there was a difference in the way he interacted with his nephew and even his younger brother that made it unsurprising for Jack to nod and follow Castiel out of the room.

“Well,” Lucifer drawled. “That was eventful. All this fuss for little old me?”

Mary just shook her head in disgust and headed for the bookshelves.

“You haven’t learned anything from being human,” Sam said with a bitter little laugh. “And you wonder why none of us want anything to do with you. You’re pathetic. You’re just a sulky kid who didn’t get his way, so you’re pulling everyone’s pigtails, and the only reason we haven’t kicked you out is because we don’t trust you not to fuck us over with someone else. Oh, and because Gabriel still cares enough about you to not let you die. Why he does, I’ve got no idea.”

For a microsecond, something dark flashed behind Lucifer’s eyes. But it was gone before Sam could even be sure of what he’d seen.

“My, my, Sammy,” Lucifer tutted. “Didn’t your mommy ever teach you not to say anything if you couldn’t say something nice? Oh, sorry, your daddy?”

Letting his eye twitch was a mistake on Sam’s part, as Lucifer immediately latched onto the involuntary tic and smiled triumphantly, leaning back in his seat.

“Maybe if you weren’t so self-absorbed in your pity party and actually owned your shit, you wouldn’t be pushing your brother and son away,” Sam shot at Lucifer before turning to Anna. “You want to come on a beer run with me? I need to get out of here before we start our Michael plan.”

“Sure,” Anna said. Her smile was blatantly fake, but Sam still appreciated the effort. “I could use some licorice. I haven’t had it in _ages_.”

“You like it too?” Sam beamed. “Dean…he always called me a freak and a weirdo for liking it.”

“Guess we’ll just have to be freaks and weirdos together,” Anna said with an answering grin, her smile now more genuine.

As Sam headed for the bunker door with Anna, he could almost literally feel Lucifer’s eyes scorching the back of his neck. For a brief moment, he wondered if he’d gone too far, then dismissed the thought. It was nothing that Lucifer didn’t need to hear, after all. And clearly, nobody else was going to step up and say it to him, so it was really for the best that Sam had stepped up.

Once out on the road, Anna sighed and slumped against her seat, the tension melting from her body. “I’m surprised no one’s killed him yet.”

“You know that it’d upset Gabe,” Sam said with a little shrug. “And I get where he’s coming from. Even if Dean went total dark side, I don’t think I’d ever be able to bring myself to do it. And I’m pretty sure he feels the same about me, even ten years on.”

“You know, this is one of the reasons I fell.” Anna toyed with a small thread of bright blue grace, creating wispy shapes that drew Sam’s gaze from the road despite himself. “Having all this power is nice and all, but the angels? They just don’t care. They think it’s beneath them _to_ care. But you humans just care so much, even if you make silly decisions because of it.”

Sam’s mind flashed back to the moment he’d realised that Dean had made a deal to bring him back after Jake Talley had killed him. “Tell me about it. So…you’re really going to get rid of your grace?”

“I’ll keep it around in case of emergencies,” Anna said. “But I fell to live a human life and I intend to do it, not just skip out halfway through. Plus…” She paused, as though carefully choosing her words, and Sam couldn’t help but wonder what she was treading around. “I’ve got you now. And Dean. And Claire, and Henry, and even Mary. I feel like me being an immortal angel…it kind of separates us. Puts me a level above you, like there’s a barrier between me and my humanity.’

Sam didn’t know what to say about that, so he just silently focused on the road and forced himself not to watch Anna playing with her grace. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, how much longer she’d be able to do that…how much longer it’d be until Dean was finally free from Michael’s clutches.

* * *

 

Lucifer was nowhere to be seen when Sam and Anna returned from their beer run, though Sam wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. Sure, it was nice to not have to put up with the former archangel’s bullshit for five minutes, but a quiet Lucifer was always a cause for concern.

The only other people in the main area were Henry, nose buried in yet another book, and Castiel, who was meticulously translating a book with yellowing pages, a frown marring his tan face. Castiel looked up as Sam and Anna descended the stairs and managed the ghost of a smile, which felt more pathetic than anything.

“Where’s everyone else?” Sam said, dumping the beer on the table. It was Dean’s favourite, not his, but it felt blasphemous to buy any other type.

“Mary is ‘keeping an eye’ on the TV for signs of Michael.” Castiel did the air quotes and all, and Sam couldn’t help but think how Dean would find that absolutely adorable, before realising that he still hadn’t actually talked to Castiel about how the angel was holding up. “Lucifer is ‘sulking in his room’, as Mary put it. And Jack and Gabriel are watching a cartoon about a group of people who solve mysteries. They also have a talking dog. I’m not quite sure how the dog can talk.”

“ _Scooby-Doo_ is a cartoon, Cas,” Anna said with an amused smile, rummaging around in her bag of licorice. She held the bag out to Sam, who gratefully took a piece. “Cartoons aren’t supposed to be realistic.”

“I used to watch cartoons about anthropomorphic rabbits, mice, and birds,” Henry commented idly. “I also watched a coyote get crushed and blown up and otherwise mangled and end up perfectly fine in a few minutes.”

Castiel looked rather alarmed at that.

“Hey, Cas, can I talk to you for a minute?” Sam said, nodding towards the kitchen. Frowning, Castiel left his translations and followed Sam out of the room, leaving Anna to discuss old vs new _Looney Tunes_ with Henry.

“Is there a problem, Sam?” Castiel said when they were safely alone in the kitchen. Sam went to clasp Castiel’s shoulder, then realised that the awkward angel probably wouldn’t quite grasp the gesture and Sam would probably just make things weird.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Sam said. Castiel squinted at him.

“My grace may have dwindled and I may be useless –”

“Hey, whoa, whoa.” Sam waved his hands frantically. “Not what I meant. And you’re not useless, Cas. No, I meant…I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head over Dean that I never even thought to check on you. I know he means a lot to you as well.”

Castiel’s squint faded but the lines across his face deepened. It suddenly struck Sam just how… _unused_ the angel must be to worrying about others, especially about a human. From what Sam had seen and what Dean had let slip, this was probably the first time in a long time, if ever.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Castiel said.

“Really?” Sam said. “Come on, Cas. You’ve been shutting yourself in your room all day…when you’re not talking to Jack or trying to stab Lucifer in the throat. Don’t lie to me.”

Castiel shrugged rather uncomfortably. “Dean is your brother. I have no wish to burden you with my concerns when you have your own.”

“That’s not how it works, Cas.” Sam shook his head. “You can’t just bottle your feelings up like that. Especially when you’re new to this human stuff and dealing with your grace as well.”

“And I suppose you would have a deep conversation about your emotions of your own volition?” Castiel said. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, lest he give Castiel the satisfaction of one-upping him.

“Cas…” he sighed instead, hoping that he could guilt the angel into spilling. But it turned out that angels of the Lord, even fallen ones, seemed to possess an immunity to Sam Winchester puppy dog eyes (as christened by Dean).

“I’m as well as can be, Sam,” Castiel said. “I appreciate your consideration, but you should focus on yourself. Especially since we’re going to summon Michael soon.”

Sam attempted a smile, but it was a pale shadow of the real thing. Castiel mirrored his weak smile with barely a movement of his lips, then strode from the kitchen with his usual stiff demeanour. It was only for a fraction of a second but when Sam turned, he caught a falter in the angel’s step, there and gone so quickly that he might have imagined it. He opened his mouth to call Castiel back, then closed it and shook his head as Castiel disappeared. If Castiel hadn’t opened up then, Sam didn’t think anything short of getting Dean back would be enough to do the trick.

“Would be nice if _someone_ would help rein in their kids,” Sam mumbled. He winced and hissed when a sharp pain lanced through his head behind his eyes, though it was gone as fast as Castiel’s break in demeanour had vanished.

This had gone on for way too long. They needed to summon Michael and rip him out of Dean. Fast.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Ugh, I hate fight scenes. Plus, I kinda like it when there’s actual communication involved.
> 
> Thanks to Lssrvs, argle_fraster and Alice for your comments :)

 

_"…Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco…Ab orbe terra –”_

_That’s weird. Someone’s talking. No one ever talks. At least, not since Lucifer’s defeat. Everything’s been black since that. Peaceful, even._

_“Hunc angelum omne obsequendum –”_

_Wait. There was one other time. In the bunker. With Sam and Castiel and Gabriel and someone else – and then he talked to Michael in the mirror –_

_“Domine expuet –”_

_He can…see. It’s not black. Sam’s there, and Mary, and Henry, and_ Lucifer _, and an oddly familiar brunet boy – Henry’s the one speaking –_

_“Enough!”_

The bunker’s main room, a perfect replica except for the small television on the table, snapped into focus around Dean, who was slumped in a chair like he’d fallen asleep there. Looking closer, still groggy from what felt like the mother of all naps, Dean made out the sprawled figures of Sam and Mary and –

Oh. That was the real world, with Sam, Mary, Henry, Lucifer, and the weird boy groaning and climbing to their feet. Castiel, Gabriel, and Anna appeared out of thin air, with Anna making a beeline for Sam to help him up, Gabriel steadying Mary, and Castiel placing himself in front of the weird boy. Dean could’ve sworn he knew that guy from somewhere –

“This isn’t fair!” Dean’s voice bellowed, although he hadn’t said anything. Dean jumped and whirled, hand flying to where a gun usually sat on his hip, and it took him a moment to figure out that his voice had come from the TV. But why – oh.

 _Oh_.

Right. He was Michael’s bitch. That explained the gap in his memory and why he was watching his family on TV. But why the hell was he aware _now_? No way would Michael just let him come out to play out of the goodness of his self-righteous heart, especially not after Dean had ripped him to shreds after smiting that man.

Wait. Henry had been chanting something. That was the first thing Dean had heard in the darkness. The words eluded him for a moment, dancing just out of reach, until the memory struck –

 _“Sorry, kiddo.” Alastair had Castiel by the throat. “Why don’t you go run to Daddy?_ Omnipotentis Dei potestatem invoco _–”_

Those – those goddamn _lunatics_. Was their master plan really to rattle off an angelic exorcism and pray for the best?

Actually, Dean couldn’t really fault them. If Sam had been in this situation, Dean totally would’ve done the same thing. And judging by how Sam was currently yelling at Michael, it seemed that his little brother had finally hit breaking point.

Huh. Dean needed to do this ‘imagine you’re in another’s situation’ thing more often. It was surprisingly insightful. Then again, so was paying attention to your only link to the outside world while a homicidal archangel wore your skin like a suit, so Dean shook his head and tuned in.

“ _I_ was the dutiful son!” Michael shrieked. When Lucifer just shrugged and smirked – which Dean couldn’t understand, considering that the guy was completely powerless in this situation – Michael reached out and sent Lucifer crashing to the ground with a surge of power that Dean felt as a tingle in his gut. His mental gut, that is. His actual gut was otherwise occupied as an angel condom.

“I _always_ did what Father said!” Michael continued, voice rising to a level that left Dean feeling quite emasculated at that moment. That was _his_ voice that Michael was squealing with, thank you very much. “I was the good son! But _you_ were his favourite! Precious Lucifer, Father’s favourite child, the apple of his eye – you could never do _anything_ wrong!”

“Weeeeell, since I ended up in time-out for two thousand years, I think you’re just a teensy bit off there,” Lucifer said, face screwed up in an exaggerated grimace. Dean wasn’t sure whether he wanted to slap the smug fucker or send him a fruit basket for pissing Michael off so much. It was possible for Dean to actually feel Michael’s fury scorching his mental insides, and even the mental bunker around him was starting to flicker.

“I should have killed you from the very beginning,” Michael said with a hysterical little laugh. "Maybe Father would have come back if I hadn’t deigned to show you mercy.”

“That’s enough.” Anna stepped forward, blazing eyes locked on Michael, and holy shit, Dean had severely underestimated how terrifying that angel chick was. “Henry, the exorcism.”

“But you –”

“Anna’s right,” Castiel said. “Us being exorcised as well is a small price to pay if it means ejecting Michael from his true vessel.”

“You dare to try and exorcise _me_? _Twice_?” Michael clenched his fist and Henry’s hands flew to his stomach, before he groaned and toppled over in a heap. With a gasp, the strange boy scrambled to Henry’s side and held out a hand that glowed gold, while Sam and Castiel retreated to Henry, clearly reluctant to fight the holy douchebag crammed in their brother slash boyfriend’s body.

(Brother to Sam, boyfriend to Castiel, that is. The reverse had…very unfortunate implications).

Anna, Gabriel, and Mary, on the other hand, went straight on the offensive to drive Michael back. What their plan was now, Dean had no idea, since their exorcism was effectively shot to shit, and Henry was – Henry wasn’t _dying_?

Oh. Shit. Now Dean remembered where he’d seen the kid: in the real bunker with Sam, in the background while Michael threatened Sam and awoke Angry Momma Bear Dean. Jack, a naphil, the son of Lucifer. But what the hell was the spawn of Satan doing here? Hadn’t that timeline been erased?

Although why the others were trusting him, Dean had no clue. He was probably in league with Lucifer, judging by how Lucifer had drawn him aside after Henry’s healing for what looked like a very shifty conversation. Dean tuned in as best as he could, though the concern that Michael could also tune in through Dean’s consciousness niggled at him. He brushed it off; Michael was quite occupied with fending off Anna, Gabriel and Mary, and while he might have been able to hold off Anna and Mary alone, Gabriel was more than just a thorn in his side. Although it was strikingly obvious that Gabriel wasn’t using even a fraction of his full strength. Admirable, really, that he still cared for his brother so much, even though Michael was a colossal dickbag.

Right. Eavesdropping on Lucifer and Jack.

“Come on, son!” Lucifer wheedled, resting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Well, point against Jack if they were already this chummy, and – nope, he was shrugging Lucifer’s hand right off. Huh. Maybe Dean had missed out on more than he thought. “Do your old man a favour and get his grace back, yeah? That glowing thingy around Mikey’s neck. Then share your naphil grace with me and I can help you take him down and save Deano!”

Nope. Bad idea. Do _not_ give the Devil that kind of power. The frown on Jack’s face was heartening, though.

“You _do_ want to help Dean, don’t you?” Lucifer pressed.

“Yes,” Jack said immediately, and that was something Dean was going to have to investigate once he got out of this shithole of a mental prison. “But I don’t trust you. If I – no, I can’t trust anyone with this kind of power. I don’t – I don’t even trust _myself_.”

Michael was blasted away at that moment and the perspective on the TV shifted, so Dean missed what Lucifer said after clasping both of Jack’s shoulders. Knowing the slimy asshole, it was probably something along the lines of “then why not let me help you?” or “trust me!” Neither option was really that appealing.

Goddammit, being cooped up in his body was the worst fucking thing ever. He couldn’t even _do_ anything except sit nice and cosy in his mind and watch his family and friends try to take him down without actually hurting him. Although in Gabriel’s case, Dean was pretty sure that the younger archangel was holding back out of vestiges of care for his oldest brother, not out of any kind of care for Dean.

“…just can’t share my grace with you,” Jack was saying when Dean managed to tune back in, although his view was still skewed due to the fact that Anna had just delivered a hard punch that sent his head whipping back. Dean had no doubt whatsoever that Michael could’ve vaporised the shit out of her by now if he so chose – hell, he _had_ done that back in the original 1978 – so he couldn’t help but wonder why Michael was dragging this out. He could’ve easily ended this battle by now…

…but he’d still have Gabriel to deal with. And judging from how Michael was ignoring Gabriel’s attacks in favour of focusing on Anna and Mary, Dean was willing to bet a whole year of sex with Castiel that Michael was trying to prolong his confrontation with Gabriel, where the more powerful archangel would no doubt destroy his younger brother. Either that or he was just toying with them all.

Come to think of it, why _had_ things stayed the same if Anna had never gone back to 1978? Had Mary’s memory somehow still been erased? Or had Azazel still gotten the better of her?

 _“I remedied that when one of my contacts caught wind of your mother hunting down the Colt due to that change,”_ Michael snarled. _“Not that this version of her would know. Now will you_ shut up _and cease being such an inconvenience?”_

“Shove me back in the dark, then,” Dean challenged, crossing his arms. “Unless you can’t right now? Too busy fighting a bunch of girls? Oh, and Gabriel, I suppose.”

Michael decided to vent his anger on Mary by kicking her so hard in the stomach that she collided with Castiel a short distance away, sending the two of them crashing to the ground. Dean winced but thankfully, Mary wasn’t too hurt. She just stood up, dusted herself off, and jumped right back into the fray.

Dean used every ounce of willpower to not think about how if his mom was a few years younger and _not_ his mom, he’d totally find her hot as hell. Michael would probably end up blowing a crater in retaliation if he did let that train of thought go free.

“Is that so?” Lucifer’s raised voice carried over the din, catching Michael’s attention after he backhanded Anna and sent her flying. The older archangel turned his head, giving Dean a clear view of Lucifer and Jack. “You won’t share your grace with your pops?”

“No,” Jack said firmly. “But I will give you back your grace just for this fight.”

“If you even attempt to take back Lucifer’s grace, _nephew_ , I will destroy you,” Michael growled. He started towards Jack, but Mary, Anna, and Gabriel moved to block his way. Castiel joined them, though his blade was held loosely by his side instead of out as a threat.

“Well,” Lucifer said with an exaggerated sigh. “Seems I didn’t learn my lesson after dear Mikey attacked me. You just can’t trust family, can you?”

If Dean could have predicted what Lucifer would do in that next moment, he would’ve jolted Michael into action to stop it from happening. Before anyone could react, Lucifer snatched Castiel’s blade from the younger angel’s lax grip, then slashed a line clean across Jack’s throat and grabbed his startled son by the shoulders to suck the bright blue-white grace out of the wound.

“What the _fuck_?” Gabriel appeared by Jack’s side in a millisecond, ripping the naphil out of Lucifer’s grip and pulling him to safety. Jack, pallid and wide-eyed, just clutched at his throat and sagged against Gabriel, who supported his nephew with the kind of care that hadn’t been present in any of Lucifer’s touches. “Lucifer, you absolute daddamn –”

“ _Enough_!” Clearly having had enough of no longer being the centre of attention, Michael pointed his angel blade at Lucifer, whose eyes glowed an ominous red-gold. “You’re still nowhere near powerful enough to take me on, _brother_.”

The way Lucifer’s eyes slid over the grace gleaming at Michael’s throat did not go unnoticed by anyone.

“If you’re gonna gank each other, hurry it up,” Gabriel drawled, giving Jack to Castiel so the fallen angel could keep him upright. “I’ve got better things to do than watch my brothers tear each other’s throats out over a temper tantrum.”

“It’s not _my_ fault! Think about it!” Lucifer spread his hands. “Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am! God wanted the Devil.”

“Bullshit,” Gabriel snarled. “You just got pissy that Dad had a new favourite toy and decided that if you couldn’t have him, no one could. And now you’re gonna continue fucking over your family because you don’t have the balls to take responsibility for your crap.”

Lucifer smiled, but it was a smile devoid of any warmth. “ _I_ don’t want to kill anybody, Gabriel. Michael’s the one who’s been smiting the bad humans, isn’t he? He’s just so keen to make Daddy proud that he’d steal his own little brother’s grace. And now he’s trying to shiv me. And for what? One of Dad’s tests. We don’t even know the answer. We’re brothers. Let’s just walk off the chessboard.”

Michael was silent for a long moment. Dean was expecting him to go all homicidal and start smiting everywhere…but he didn’t. In fact, his control was so shaky that his emotions were starting to bleed over into Dean’s, and Dean realised –

Michael was afraid. Afraid that he’d never see his father again. Afraid that what he was doing was the wrong thing, that he’d lost his family, that his vigilante shit over the past few weeks was blasphemy – after all, God had decreed that the humans were to be protected, and he’d disobeyed and – and –

“I – I wish things could be different,” Michael said, sounding unsure of himself for the first time across both timelines. “But if I let you go, you’re only going to cause more pain and misery and death. If I thought there was even a chance that you would put aside this petty grudge against the humans –”

“Oh, the humans!” Lucifer rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Putting Daddy’s toys before your brother? Same old Michael. You haven’t changed one bit.”

“And neither have you,” Michael snarled. “You always did blame everybody but yourself. You still are. We were together. We were happy. But you betrayed me – all of us – and you made our Father leave. And Gabriel.”

“No one makes us do anything,” Lucifer said. He shot a grin at Gabriel, who stiffened and edged away ever so slightly. “We’re archangels. If Gabriel left, it was of his own volition. And nobody makes Father do anything either. He’s doing this to us!”

“Enough of this,” a new voice said.

Everybody’s heads whipped around at the new voice, the angels raising their blades and the humans, Castiel, and Jack huddling closer together instinctively. The newcomer, dressed in a black suit with gleaming dark complexion standing out among everybody else’s paler skin, was staring straight at Michael and Lucifer with narrowed eyes. Mary and Henry were the only ones who didn’t inhale sharply at the sight of him.

Raphael had crashed the party, and he did _not_ look happy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
> 
> ~~It's basically just a heavenly bitchfight but we all know that the archangels are canonically this extra sooooo~~
> 
> Thanks to Ghost for your comment :)

“Raphael.” Lucifer, the first one to recover his wits, beamed at his younger brother. “How nice of you to drop in. Come to join the family drama? Just couldn’t do without your name in the lead credits?”

“Lucifer? Shut the everlasting fuck up,” Gabriel said. “Raphy, not that I’m not happy to see my youngest older bro, but why the hell are you here?”

“As…insignificant as humans are,” Raphael said, looking straight at Sam, “some of them do prove to be useful on occasion. It was only fitting that I not miss this…heart-wrenching family reunion.”

“Ah, Raphy, ever the sentimentalist,” Lucifer sighed. “And let me guess, you’re totally against big brother Luci because evil, Dad’s propaganda, blah blah –”

“You’re doing this to yourself, Lucifer,” Michael said rather tersely. “I admit that I should have been…more sympathetic after you took on the Mark of Cain to keep the Darkness locked away –”

“You see?” Lucifer said with a bittersweetly triumphant laugh. “Dad knew what would happen. He created the Devil just because I did the hard thing!”

“– but you haven’t had the Mark for millennia,” Michael continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “The Mark hasn’t influenced you since you passed it to Cain. And if Cain – a human turned demon – can resist the Mark’s effects, what does that say about you?”

“Shit,” Gabriel whistled. Actual emotion flitted across Raphael’s face for the barest fraction of a second and he stepped away from Michael. In the background, the non-archangels had backed away even further from the soap opera-worthy family drama, and Dean had to wonder when the hell any of them got enough of a sense of self-preservation to not draw attention to themselves while the archangels were throwing their tantrums, though thankfully it hadn’t turned to ‘destroy the world’ fisticuffs. Yet.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, _brother_?” Lucifer snarled, eyes now burning bright red.

“I’m saying that if you really, truly wanted to resist, you would have,” Michael said. Dean shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake off the whirlwind of repressed Michael emotions bursting out and digging their hooks into him like bugs crawling across his skin. “The Mark may have corrupted you, but it only corrupted what was already there, so you have no room whatsoever to talk about being misunderstood. You already possessed envy and hatred. You just allowed the Mark to use that as fuel.”

“You see? Dad knew what was gonna happen.” Lucifer’s face twisted. “How can you stand there and continue to defend him when he let me take on a curse that he knew would mess his so-called favourite son up? How can you keep following his orders when he _left_ you, Michael? He left all of us! He’s selfish and _flawed_ , but you don’t see that!”

“Lucifer –”

“And guess what? You’re just as two-faced as him! Michael, the dutiful son, following Daddy’s every word…but you haven’t been so dutiful lately, have you? All these humans you’ve been smiting out of your sanctimonious sense of righteousness…I thought that vigilantism was more Gabriel’s style.”

“Ouch,” Gabriel deadpanned, which Dean knew was the Ultimate Gabriel Defence Mechanism. “One would think you were defending humanity there.”

“Defending humanity?” Lucifer let out a loud laugh. “Oh no, Gabriel, I’m just pointing out Michael’s hypocrisy. At least I don’t pretend to care about this festering pile of cockroaches.”

“I’d watch what you say about Dad’s favourites, Luci,” Gabriel said lightly. Lucifer’s eyes slid from Michael to fix on him. “They’re better than us.”

“They are _broken_ , Gabriel!” Lucifer hissed. “Flawed! Abortions!”

“Damn right they’re flawed,” Gabriel said. “But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. Between serving out just desserts and tagging along with this bunch of losers, you know what I’ve seen? I’ve seen pure evil. But I’ve also seen more damn good in them than I’ve seen in us perfect angels for a long time.”

Lucifer just snorted and crossed his arms. Gabriel ploughed on.

“When’s the last time angels tried to better themselves? When’s the last time we stopped pretending we were so pure and holy and special and actually took a good look at ourselves, huh? Angels are stagnant, bro.” Gabriel looked around, encompassing Michael and Raphael in his gaze. “And you know that. But you don’t wanna admit it, do you? You don’t wanna admit that you know, deep down, that humans are better than us. Because that’d mean that you’re wrong. And we all know how angels feel about being wrong.”

“You’ve changed, Gabriel,” Raphael murmured. Gabriel gave a shit-eating smirk.

“Kinda have to when you’re in self-imposed exile, big bro. Hopefully you can get that stick outta your ass as well.”

“Not likely,” Dean muttered.

“Shut up, Dean,” Michael hissed back.

“Dean?” Sam started forward, but Anna grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. “Dean, can you hear me?”

“Be quiet, Dean, and don’t bother me or I’ll smite him,” Michael growled. Lucifer’s eyebrows just shot up in the most blatant ‘told you so, hypocritical bitch’ move Dean had ever seen. In the background, a silent Jack was looking from archangel to archangel like this was the obligatory argument scene in a cheesy drama film, no doubt wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into by being conceived by the biggest asshole of all the archangels.

“Stay out of this, Gabriel,” Lucifer’s voice was deceptively calm. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing. But you don’t know what you’re talking about. And this doesn’t concern you or Raphael.”

“Ha!” Gabriel pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “Doesn’t concern me? Nice one, bro. It concerned me and Raphy the minute you and Mikey couldn’t keep your bitchfight to yourselves. You think Raphael’s ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude is really who he is? You and Michael really fucking hurt both of us. I left and turned it outwards. Raphael just turned it inwards.”

“Gabriel –”

“No!” Gabriel stepped forward and turned so that Michael and Lucifer were on either side of him, jabbing a finger at Lucifer. “Fuck. You.”

Raphael sidled next to Gabriel when Lucifer’s hand twitched, as though about to go for a weapon. It was actually kind of surreal to Dean to see the support between the two younger brothers despite being estranged for millennia, and he could feel that Michael thought the same. It was as though the entire world had narrowed down to the four siblings, with Sam, Mary, Castiel, Anna, Henry, and Jack as the dead silent (but thankfully not dead) peanut gallery.

“You and Michael became so daddamn self-absorbed that you didn’t even give a fuck about me and Raphael!” Gabriel continued, breathing heavily – probably for effect, since angels didn’t need to breathe. “You – you got so jealous of the pretty, pure, perfect humans that you went and corrupted them just to prove that they _could_ be flawed! And then when Dad called you out for your shit? You put on the biggest damn victim complex I’ve ever seen, and you’re _still_ acting like you’re so fucking hard done by and you’re the innocent little victim to the rest of us big bad assholes!”

“That’s propaganda, Gabriel!” Lucifer’s fists clenched, as though resisting the urge to wrap themselves around Gabriel’s throat. “Say something enough times and of course people think it’s true. Especially when Dad –”

Gabriel laughed long and loud. “Oh, bro, if you think that the truth is propaganda then you’re really delusional. Oh, and Michael’s not perfect either. He was so fucking obsessed with making Dad happy, and neither of you ever once thought of me and Raphael! Neither of you cared about us!”

“That’s not true,” Lucifer said softly. “I’ve always cared about you and Raphael.”

“Not enough.” Raphael’s voice was icy cold. “If you truly cared enough about us, you would never have put _humans_ above us. You claimed that humans were nothing to you, yet you allowed your hatred of them to take precedence over your love for your family! How are we supposed to believe that you truly care about us when you let your envy and desire to be revered become more important than us?”

“Holy shit,” Dean muttered. Judging by the way Lucifer’s ‘give no fucks’ facial expression had slipped, allowing his eyes to widen, Raphael’s words had been the ones to finally slip through his guard and cut deep.

“If you really loved us, you would have prioritised us above _everything_ ,” Raphael continued. His voice wavered ever so slightly. “But you put _humans_ before us. It was supposed to be the four of us, Lucifer. What happened to the four archangels? What happened to our family?”

Gabriel looked at Raphael rather strangely, but still stepped closer to him so that they were almost touching.

“Raphael…” Lucifer shook his head. “Enough. Enough of this! Why did you have to involve them in the me versus you, Michael? I never pegged you for such a rebel.”

But the Devil had been rattled, and they all knew it. Jack’s head had tilted as he regarded his father from another timeline, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going through the guy’s head at that moment.

“Please, Lucifer.” Michael held up his hands. “Swear you’ll let this all go. Swear you’ll stop obsessing over these humans. I don’t want to fight you. Truly, I don’t. I only smote the humans over the past few weeks because I was hurt, but I never wanted to kill you. That’s why I took your grace rather than end you.”

Oh, please. “My feelings were hurt, so I’m gonna go slaughter a bunch of humans’”. Oldest excuse in the book, if you asked Dean.

“Please, Lucifer.” Michael held up his hands. “Swear you’ll let this all go. Swear you’ll stop obsessing over these humans. I don’t want to fight you. Truly, I don’t.”

“The _humans_? You think I did this all because of those maggots?” Lucifer laughed almost hysterically. “No, I’m pissed off at _you_ and _Dad_! How do you think it feels to be entrusted with the most important of tasks, to be the apple of Dad’s eye, the one he can always rely on…then to have him turn his back on you and get his older son to throw you out because of something he _knew_ would happen? Humanity can go and burn for all I care! I want _you_ to admit that you were wrong and I was right!”

“We both know I was wrong to turn on you and cast you out,” Michael said. “But you have to take responsibility for your part in it! That’s why you were cast out, Lucifer! If you would just take responsibility for the decisions you made –”

“Here we go! Let’s all play ‘blame the Devil’!”

“Oh my dad,” Gabriel muttered. The atmosphere, thicker than viscous honey, shattered when Lucifer snarled and advanced on Michael. Michael’s archangel blade was out and in front of him in a heartbeat.

“Please, Lucifer,” he said almost pleadingly.

“Why? You’ve all made your minds up about me! I’m the bad son, the black sheep. I’m the one who’s always wrong, who’s always fucking up!” Lucifer grappled for Michael’s blade with a hysteria that Dean had never, ever seen on his face across both timelines. “Why should I stand down when you haven’t given a fuck about me in millennia?”

“I _have_!” Michael shouted. “Why else would I be doing this?”

“Why else would you be trying to _kill me_? Because you don’t care about anyone but precious Daddy –”

“That’s not true!”

“ _Liar_!” Lucifer let out a snarl and punched Michael clean in the face. Dean winced and reached up to touch his unblemished face; even though he couldn’t feel what was happening to his physical body, the pain still seemed to hover like his phantom limbs. “Why?”

Punch. _Crack_. Was that a broken nose?

“Why am I the only one fucking vilified for what I _chose_ to do?”

 _Snap_. Dean’s physical jaw twinged on his mental self. Why the hell wasn’t Michael fighting back? Wasn’t having his true vessel supposed to make him stronger?

“You get rewarded for being Daddy’s little ass-puppet!” Lucifer’s eyes burned red and glimmered as he finally wrenched Michael’s blade away. “I get thrown out on my ass because I dared to speak out! What – what kind of a father – everyone loves pole-up-the-ass _Michael_ –”

“I’m doing this _because_ I love you!” Michael burst out. Lucifer froze, blade poised to slam into Michael’s chest. “I can’t stand to see you so twisted and broken and – and so unlike the Lucifer we used to know! This is a _mercy_! If I thought that there was even a chance that I could redeem you –”

“And there it is!” Lucifer shrieked. “Redemption! Poor little Lucifer didn’t listen to Daddy, so he needs to be fixed and redeemed!”

“You think this is you striking out on your own?” Gabriel was the first to pull himself together, leaving everybody else frozen and unreactive. “This is you throwing a tantrum because Dad brought the new baby home and you weren’t the favourite anymore! _I_ struck out on my own and you don’t see Dad ordering Michael to come shiv me! The _humans_ struck out on their own and Dad loved them for it! You just can’t see –”

“ _This isn’t about you_!” Lucifer whirled to face Gabriel and most likely would’ve lunged for his younger brother if Michael hadn’t leapt forward and grabbed at his arm. Lucifer elbowed Michael away and turned back, blade once again raised. “This is about _me_! It was _always_ about me! And Dad’s such a fucking coward that he can’t even look me in the eye and face what he created! All-knowing Daddy _knew_ I’d be the Devil and he didn’t – he didn’t give a _damn_ , did he, not when he had his precious humans and obedient older son –”

If Lucifer hadn’t been so reminiscent of a toddler throwing a tantrum, only minus the foot-stamping, then Dean might have been inclined to feel sorrier for him. As it was, he could only muster up the barest of sympathy for the archangel who’d been wronged but refused to see his own part in it. For all this ‘parallels to Michael and Lucifer’, Dean couldn’t see a shred of Sam in Lucifer right now, whose stolen grace from his son was causing the grass to freeze beneath his feet as he continued to rage. Michael’s emotions were such a confused, jumbled mess that Dean couldn’t even begin to separate them out.

“I can do what I want now!” Lucifer shouted, advancing on Michael. “Because Dad doesn’t care! And I don’t need my pitying, _self-righteous_ older brother with a saviour complex to –”

Lucifer vanished. One moment, he was looming over Michael with blade raised, ready to strike down the archangel who seemed to have given up all fight (which was totally not cool, hello, sharing a body, Dean did _not_ consent to just standing there and dying). Then, in a flash of blue-white light, he was gone, leaving Michael’s blade to land on the grass with a _thump_.

“What the hell?” Gabriel slowly edged over, eyes rooted on the spot where Lucifer had disappeared like Lucifer was going to suddenly come back and stab him up the ass.

“I don’t –” Michael broke off, his face screwing up. At first, Dean couldn’t tell what was wrong. Then there was a hard tug deep inside his body, like a parent yanking a naughty child along, and Michael howled, “No – you can’t do this, Father – you can’t just summon me – _come and talk to me here_ –”

“Father?” Raphael was by Michael’s side in a heartbeat, grabbing his arms to steady him as there was another almighty pull. “He’s summoning you?”

“What’s going on?” Sam’s voice faintly echoed in the background.

“He can’t summon me like this!” Michael cried. “I did everything right – everything he said – he can’t just forcibly summon me like Lucifer – I am _nothing_ like him!”

But it seemed that Chuck didn’t give a damn about sides. With one last haul, bright angelic light started to pour from Michael’s mouth, and Dean was flying – up – up – the mental bunker was gone – then he was looking at Raphael as himself, not through a TV – he stumbled on legs he could once again control – and then everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Heyo enjoy your smut you pervs and thank me for this happy and very long chapter because I am a benevolent god and could have made y’all wait another chapter for some action
> 
> Thanks to Eliza_Avalo and RedB for your comments :)

 

“Dean – wake up –”

Who did that voice belong to? It was so familiar. Dean tried to grab it, but it was like moving through sludge –

“He’s waking up!” a higher voice said.

“He’s okay!” the first voice added, cracking slightly.

“Of course he’s okay,” said another familiar voice, one that made Dean want to punch someone for some reason. “I wouldn’t have let him die. He would’ve come back to haunt me for eternity.”

“I can’t see why,” a fourth voice said rather sarcastically. “Move aside, Sammich. I’ll give him a jolt, but I’m so not giving him the kiss of life.”

“Please don’t put your mouth on his or I’ll stab you,” said a fifth voice, which was deep and gravelly and so damn familiar that it hurt. Before Dean could ponder who the voice belonged to, a sharp jolt of what felt like electricity surged through him and, eyes shooting open, he jerked upright with a cry.

“What the _fuck_?” he yelled, fumbling at his waistband for a gun that wasn’t there. Had Michael moved on to actually torturing him? But – But the grass under his fingers – the cool breeze invading his nostrils with the fresh smell of the outdoors – unless Michael was seriously investing energy into keeping an illusion up…

“Dean!”

Dean’s vision was suddenly obscured by something soft, tickling his eyelids and invading his nostrils until a loud sneeze rocked his whole body. Thoughts about the oddity of being relieved by the feeling of sneezing aside – which was reasonable, considering that he’d been trapped in his own mind for weeks on end – there was only one thing that could make him sneeze like that.

“Sammy –” he croaked, spitting hair out of his mouth. “Kinda –” He sneezed again. “Can’t breathe –”

“Shit!” Sam backed off to give Dean room to breathe, but he remained kneeling by Dean’s side, pretty much hovering like a shiny-eyed bird of prey. Now that his vision wasn’t blocked by moose mane, Dean could actually blink in the bright sunlight and look around at all the people standing around him like he was the main character in a generic action movie.

“Hey.” Dean pasted his biggest shit-eating grin on and waved around at everyone, who he was sixty percent sure were all just figments of his imagination. “Miss me?”

“Not really, no,” Gabriel drawled, looking down at his fingernails.

“I would kiss you right now, but I feel that would be seen as a reward for making the worst decision ever,” Castiel said, though he immediately contradicted himself by giving Jack to Anna, then crossing over to Dean’s side and kissing him softly on the lips. Dean was sorely tempted to close his eyes and just kiss Castiel for the next hour, but the presence of an audience made him reluctantly pull away and grab Castiel’s hand instead. Even if this was an illusion cooked up by Michael, that was no reason to just go all voyeur on everyone. He had to have some dignity in the face of archangel assbags, after all.

“I don’t even like you,” Raphael said.

“Ouch,” Dean deadpanned. “Harsh. And here I thought we had somethin’ special, Raphy.”

Raphael’s eye actually twitched. Probably the only thing that saved Dean’s life at that moment was the presence of Chuck, who was standing next to his archangel sons with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. Okay, wow, this had to be real because the power radiating off Chuck? No way could anyone ever replicate that, even in an illusion, and Michael hadn’t set up enough to really master making them completely believable.

“Yes, this is real, Dean,” Chuck said. “You’re not hallucinating or anything.” He seemed to glow softly, not with any discernible light but rather with a sort of aura that brought him into sharp focus, almost blurring the world around him. If Dean had had any doubts before, they were well and truly assuaged now. Although that didn’t mean that shit wasn’t going to go down in his mind later, because when was Dean ever that lucky?

“Oh, heya, Chuck.” Dean gave Chuck a mocking salute while allowing Sam to help him to his feet, wobbling on muscles he’d had no control over for weeks. “Broke one of your commandments, didn’t I? Gonna smoke me?”

“Your habit of inviting death with open arms aside,” Chuck said, “you technically didn’t break one of the conditions because Sam didn’t get possessed as well. And I wouldn’t have interfered if that had happened.”

“Bullshit. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Only because Sam yelled at me,” Chuck said. “And okay, I might have been a _little_ absent –”

“A _little_?” Sam took a step forward, fists clenched. “You wouldn’t even have come now if I hadn’t reminded you that you’re supposed to be a _dad_!”

“Sam –” Chuck began.

“No! _You_ shut up!” Sam jabbed a finger at Chuck, and the looks on Gabriel, Raphael, Castiel, and Anna’s faces at the sight of a human scolding their omniscient father were absolutely priceless. “You’re just like our dad, G – Chuck! Leaving because you didn’t want to have to put up with what your kids did, only coming back when you absolutely have to so you can save the day! _Dean_ did more to fix your mess than you ever did!”

“Uh, kiddo –” Gabriel said slowly.

“I’m not finished!” Sam snapped, taking another step forward. “No one asked you to stick around and hold your kids’ hands. But you – you can’t just _disappear_ because you don’t like what your kids are doing! Do you know how many times Dad just walked out on me and Dean whenever we did something he didn’t like, just because he didn’t want to deal with it? He’d rather have gotten himself blinding drunk and wallow over Mom than be there for his _kids_!”

Chuck’s eyebrows had risen so far that they nearly touched his hairline. On the one hand, Dean wanted to shut Sam up now before he got turned into a pile of smoking atoms. On the other hand? Watching Chuck get served his just desserts was just… _beautiful_. However, Mary’s face at hearing Sam’s words about John was heartbreaking – and wow, Mary was _here_! Dean hadn’t fully expected Chuck to even keep his word.

“Clean up your mess,” Sam spat. “Take care of your kids. And leave Dean alone because he’s done enough – _more_ than enough – for you. You asked him to give up the Sam he grew up with and the Cas he went through hell with and come back to a time where he couldn’t speak to _anyone_ , and you were going to just leave Michael in him if I didn’t yell at you!”

The silence that fell on them was so thick that it was almost tangible in the atmosphere, like an awkward, apprehensive weight on their shoulders. Dean was halfway through debating the merits of grabbing Sam and making a break for it before Chuck could smite him before Chuck finally spoke.

“You know, if it was anyone other than Sam Winchester talking to me like that, they’d be a puddle on the floor,” he said lightly. “But I guess you do deserve one free pass after what you’ve had to put up with, especially since I did promise Dean that he could make things easier for you this time around.”

Dean just flipped Chuck off, still giddy with the realisation that this _wasn’t_ a dream and he _was_ okay and that _was_ Castiel’s hand he was holding. Gabriel was biting his lip hard, as though trying to hold back laughter at Dean’s action, and when they met each other’s gaze, there was a newfound respect in the youngest archangel’s golden eyes.

“But seriously, talk to me like that again and you’re toast,” Chuck said. “I’m egotistical, remember?”

“Nice to know that some things never change,” Gabriel said cheerfully, conjuring a red sucker and making Raphael grimace and step away with the obscene sounds he made.

“Mind your manners, son.”

“Sorry, daddy!”

Having come from 2017, Dean could be forgiven for shuddering violently at hearing Gabriel refer to his father that way. Everybody stared at him, except for Chuck, who just rolled his eyes.

“Give it a few years,” Dean said. “And for god’s sake, keep Claire away from it.”

“Yes, for my sake, please do,” Chuck said. “Okay, enough twiddling thumbs. I didn’t come here to banter for the next hour.”

“What are you going to do with Michael and Lucifer?” Mary said. “Where’d you take them?”

“I had a good _chat_ with them,” Chuck said. “And I put them in time-out for the next few decades. The Cage was a bust, so this time I took their grace and they’re being reborn as humans as we speak.”

“You _what_?” Raphael looked utterly appalled. “You made them _human_?”

“Yes,” Chuck said evenly. “Lucifer’s so self-absorbed that he’s never going to learn unless he’s forced to _be_ what he despises. And Michael only kept his hands off because I told him to, not because he actually respected humans. See how smitey he got the minute he thought I wasn’t coming back?”

“And your lack of parenting had nothing to do with that at all?” Mary said, her hands on her hips. It seemed that her maternal instincts were overriding any sense of self-preservation she might have had, although that might also have been a result of spending so much time with Amara. Behind her, Anna and Jack seemed to be doing their best impression of chameleons, probably because one had also disobeyed and fallen to Earth and the other wasn’t even supposed to exist. Beside them, Henry just looked like his brain had broken, not that Dean could blame the poor guy. This was pretty far from an adventure of the literary kind.

“No, I’m just here to be an asshole,” Chuck deadpanned.

“Ten outta ten for that effort, buddy,” Dean said. Sam coughed rather suspiciously into his hand.

“I don’t have to stand here and take this,” Chuck said sulkily. “Raphael, you never actually hurt any humans other than your vessel, and I know you couldn’t help that. So, you can keep your grace. Plus, I need someone to look after Heaven and make sure everyone doesn’t kill each other for the throne and then jump back into Judgement Day.”

“Hey, wow,” Gabriel said around his sucker. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“Gabriel, you and I both know that you would plunge Heaven into hedonistic chaos if you were forced to oversee it,” Raphael said. Gabriel grinned widely.

“Point. Big bro knows me so well.”

“Wait,” Raphael said. “Why should I oversee Heaven? Father, the humans are right…for once. You can’t just come back and order us around as though you never left. Why should we respect your authority?”

To everyone’s surprise, Chuck laughed rather than getting shirty at being questioned. “Because I’m sticking around this time,” he said. “I’ll be behind the scenes, guiding you when you need it and trying to be a semi-okay father, but the last thing I want is the directing role.”

“Hey, cool, now we get Sunday dinners again,” Gabriel said.

“Gabriel, if you could be serious for _one_ minute –” Raphael said.

“Both of you, go. Get outta here.” Chuck made a shooing gesture. “Go wait at Chuck Shurley’s house. I just have a few more things to take care of.”

Raphael nodded immediately and disappeared. Gabriel took the time to grin and salute Dean before following his big brother, leaving Chuck with two fallen angels, a naphil, and a handful of humans.

“Alright,” Chuck said. “Let’s keep things brief. No one likes an hour of standing around and talking, plus it doesn’t make for interesting writing. You two.” He pointed at Castiel, then at Anna, and their eyes widened. “I’m not pissed. I’m proud of you.”

“You’re what?” both fallen angels burst out. Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand, since the guy looked like he was going to faint on the spot.

“Okay, so I said that ye shall not become human or whatever,” Chuck said. “But honestly, considering that I’m all about free will and loving humans and you did both, Anna, I think I can let it slide.”

“Thank you…?” Anna said.

“And Cas, I know I’m not supposed to have favourites, but you’re easily my favourite kid across both timelines,” Chuck continued. “Your constant rebellion against your higher-ups? It’s less of a fault in your wiring and more of an upgrade in your programming, honestly. You’re the last angel I ever made, and I wanted to try something different. Sorry about all the crap you copped for it, by the way.”

Castiel just blinked mutely, as though he’d forgotten words. Dean wasn’t surprised, considering that his (stunningly gorgeous) boyfriend had just learned that he was the youngest sibling in the heavenly Brady Bunch and the best out of the lot. To be honest, Dean would’ve pegged the youngest to be that adorable little Alfie guy who’d been smoked thanks to Naomi’s brainwashing. Samandriel had been his name, right?

“So,” Chuck said, “I can give graces back or take them away. Your choice. But either way, you won’t have to go back to Heaven if you don’t want to.”

“Take it,” Anna said immediately. “I don’t want it. Uh, no offence or anything, because I know you made me and all –”

“If I was offended, I wouldn’t have given you that choice,” Chuck said. “Just let go of Jack and hold still for a sec.” With a snap of his fingers, Anna’s head whipped back. Brilliant blue-white grace streamed out of her mouth and into a small vial that Chuck had conjured.

“You okay?” Sam said when Anna wobbled, and she would’ve toppled over if he hadn’t jumped up and caught hold of her.

“Just woozy,” Anna said faintly. “Like I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Cas?” Chuck said. “I can take whatever grace is left in you or I can give it all back to you.”

“And I won’t have to return to Heaven?” Castiel said, shifting closer to Dean. Dean shook his hand free so that he could slide an arm around Castiel’s waist, narrowing his eyes at Sam when his younger brother smirked.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Chuck said. “And I’ll make sure that Raphael doesn’t be an ass if you ever do pop back up there.”

“Then I’ll stay here too,” Castiel said firmly. “But I would like my grace back so that I can be of use –”

“Goddammit, Cas, you don’t need your juice to be useful!” Dean’s fingers dug into Castiel’s waist, as though they could will Castiel to understand that he wasn’t useless just because he happened to be powerless.

“I want it back,” Castiel said stubbornly. “I highly doubt you’ll give up hunting, and Anna is relinquishing her grace, so I couldn’t bear to see you severely hurt or _dead_ when I could fix it!”

“Cas –”

“ _Dean_ –”

“Sam!” Sam chimed in rather forcefully. The reference stopped Dean and Castiel in their tracks – Dean out of disbelief that his brother had made a reference like _that_ and Castiel no doubt from confusion – and made Anna snort, then double over with laughter. With every shred of self-restraint Dean possessed, he held back the laughter bubbling inside him and, ignoring Sam’s bitchface, turned to Castiel.

“Look, if you want your grace back, I ain’t gonna stop ya,” he said, while Anna continued her unladylike laughter in the background. “But if you just want it to feel useful…you don’t need it to be useful, Cas. Sam and I coped pretty well in the other timeline when it got stolen from you and you never got it all back.”

Castiel’s eyes bulged at that. Oh. Whoops. Dean had mentioned Metatron, but he’d never actually let on that Castiel had had his grace stolen.

“Alright, alright,” Chuck said. “Enough flirting with my new favourite son. Anna, shut the hell up. Cas, here’s your grace back.”

He snapped his fingers again and Castiel doubled over, eyes and mouth shining just as brightly as Anna’s mouth had when her grace was extracted. Dean kept a tight grip on Castiel’s waist in case the guy needed support when it was all done, but he needn’t have worried; when Castiel straightened up his eyes glowed bright blue-white and, with a flash of lightning, the shadow of his wings unfurled behind him. The sight of Castiel empowered and tall like that sent a hot jolt through Dean, although that was overshadowed by the realisation that he was feeling his _body_ in that moment. After weeks of possession and being sequestered away in his own mind, it was almost a trip to actually have his body back and reacting for him instead of for a dickbag cosmic force.

“But –” Castiel frowned down at his body, arms held slightly out to the side. “This isn’t – I’m not a seraph –”

“You are now,” Chuck said. “Just like you were after the last Apocalypse. Besides, I need you to keep Dean alive so he stops cussing me out, or I’ll have to smite him for disrespect.”

Dean flipped the primordial deity off again, a small part of him trying to see how far he could push Chuck. Chuck just ignored him – no doubt to avoid smiting him, because it seemed to be Dean’s personal mission in life to annoy the fuck out of higher powers – and turned to Jack instead.

“Are you going to kill me?” Jack said quietly. “I know I shouldn’t exist –”

“No, because then Cas would attack me and I’d have to punish him, which would then make Dean angry at me,” Chuck said. “And I’ve had enough of Dean to last an eternity.”

“Funny, the feeling’s mutual,” Dean said flatly.

“Look, I only punish bad celestial beings,” Chuck said. He approached Jack, who made a sudden move to hide behind Anna but forced himself to remain where he was. “And you’re far from it. I mean, you jumped from timeline to timeline just to find Dean because you just had to be difficult and be born with a massive guilt complex. Kids aren’t their parents. I should know that better than anyone else.”

“I’m _good_?” Jack’s whole face lit up. Dean would’ve sworn later that it was glowing with a soft golden light, though at that moment he was trying to digest the fact that Jack was here for _him_. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge the kid.

“One of the best.” Chuck rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Nephilim were only forbidden because the Grigori were creating them to overthrow Heaven and the angels weren’t powerful enough to fight back. It was a huge mess back then, believe me. But you’re nothing like them. And I can’t give you back your stolen grace – that should regenerate by itself over time – but I can age you down a bit and let you be a real kid. No one should have to grow up that fast. And I’ll stabilise your grace while it regenerates, otherwise your whole angel-human balance will be thrown out of whack and you’ll eat yourself alive.”

“I’d like that,” Jack said, looking down at the grass. “I’d like to honour my mother by being a child like she wished I could be while I was in her womb.”

“How young are we talkin’?” Dean said. “Claire’s enough, I ain’t dealing with another shithead.”

“Don’t be so self-centred, Dean,” Chuck said. “I’d only make him physically around fourteen or fifteen, education and official documents included so he can go to school like a normal kid.”

Before Dean could point out that Jack was the kid of an archangel – emphasis on _kid_ – and was the furthest thing from normal, a soft glow began to emanate from Chuck’s hand. Before their eyes, Jack’s face blurred and shifted, rearranging itself slightly to look more youthful while he shrunk down until he was just taller than Claire was, his clothes hanging off his new frame.

“Alright, I’m done here,” Chuck said as Jack stared down at himself and poked his own chest, no doubt adjusting to having shrunk down to a teen. “I’ll drop you all off at the bunker and then I’m on vacation for the next two millennia.”

“What happened to sticking around?” Sam said. Chuck just rolled his eyes to high heaven, then snapped his fingers, and their surroundings warped from the grassy field to the bunker’s main room in the blink of an eye. Dean was half-expecting to be sick of the place, to have an immediate bad reaction after being stuck in there in his mind, but the only feeling that coursed through him was _home_. It was as though his mind recognised that this wasn’t the same bunker he’d been trapped in when Michael had first possessed him and while the archangels had duked it out.

For a few moments, nobody spoke, instead eyeing each other off like they were waiting for someone else to shatter the silence. With a deep sigh, Dean decided to be that asshole.

“Right,” he said. “Bein’ an angel condom was so much fun, but I think I’m gonna go crash –”

He was wrapped in warm arms before he could even move, blonde hair obscuring his vision, and he inhaled sharply and hugged Mary back tightly, her earthy scent enveloping him.

“Dean,” was all Mary said. Dean closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Mary’s neck, willing the burning in his eyes to fuck off so that he wouldn’t cry like a baby at finally having his mom back. No more running off to do her own thing, no more alternate universes, no more hanging out with Chuck and Amara while Dean slaved his guts out changing the timeline…just her. His mother.

“Right.” Dean eventually clapped Mary on the back and pulled away, missing the immediate lack of warmth. It was immediately replaced by Anna, whose hug was brief but tight and who punched Dean on the shoulder the minute they separated.

“You self-sacrificing _asshole_ ,” she snarled while he winced and rubbed his shoulder. “If you ever do something like that again –”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, though he couldn’t contain the smile spreading across his face. “Look, can you bash my head in after I get some sleep?” His stomach growled loudly, and he only then realised just how empty and hollow he felt inside. “And some food. Man, that asshole didn’t even bother fuelling this sweet piece of ass.”

“I’m sure the lack of cholesterol did you a world of wonder,” Sam said with a bitchface that was dampened by sheer joy and relief. “Maybe you’ll actually make it to middle age.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said cheerfully. “Right, I haven’t forgotten about Gramps and Rosemary’s baby, but if I don’t get some food and sleep then I’m gonna fall over. And I gotta get this fuckin’ monkey suit off. If that dick was gonna possess me, he at least coulda done it in style instead of –” Dean gestured down at the expensive suit he was still wearing, courtesy of dickbag Michael, “– _this_.”

It was kind of a pity that he had to eat and sleep. After weeks of no physical contact, he would’ve loved nothing more than to enjoy Castiel snuggles, maybe even get in an orgasm or two. But honestly, he probably wouldn’t even be able to stay awake long enough to get to bed, so that would just have to wait until tomorrow.

* * *

 

Ten hours. Ten freaking hours. That was how long Dean slept for the minute his head touched the pillow, and even that was only possible because Castiel all but bridal-carried him to their room after Dean’s hasty sandwich. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and stretched, relishing in the popping of joints and the burn of muscles in the body that was one hundred percent his again. Man, there was no way he’d take his body for granted ever again. Maybe he’d even join Sam with his baby brother’s morning runs and mounds of rabbit food.

Nah. Who was he kidding? Bacon cheeseburgers until the day he died. And anyway, Cas could just clean out his arteries whenever they started to crap themselves.

When he turned his head, his breath stuck in his throat at the sight next to him: Castiel on his side, shirtless just like Dean (and clad only in underwear, judging from what Dean could feel under the covers in his own pantless state) and watching Dean with an unwavering blue stare and a smile. This was real. It had to be. If this did turn out to just be another illusion, this was the one step too far that was going to break him.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he said thickly, shooting Castiel his trademark ‘hey, baby’ grin. Castiel’s smile widened.

“Good morning, Dean.” The angel leaned in and kissed Dean, who closed his eyes and melted into the kiss with a soft groan. It tasted _right_. By god, after weeks of being Michael’s condom, Castiel’s kisses were quite literally nirvana, not that they never were. Dean wasn’t sure if it was Michael residue or just the result of weeks of being separated from his body, but every sense seemed to be heightened, with even a simple touch reacting with his skin like a live wire. He shivered violently when Castiel rolled over to rest on top of him, blanketing him in angelic warmth.

This was real. It really was. The few Michael illusions he’d been subjected to hadn’t been able to capture this level of detail. There was no way that this sweet-smelling warmth could be anything but a hundred percent real. The taste of Castiel was vivid and deep and _real_ in a way that Michael had never pinned.

“Thanks for gettin’ rid of that monkey suit,” he said. “I swear, knowin’ I looked like some rich dick was the worst part about –”

“Of all the ridiculous, reckless things to do,” Castiel growled, cutting Dean off with a short, rough kiss. “Saying yes to Michael when you had all that future knowledge – when you _knew_ the consequences of being an archangel vessel –”

“Barachiel was hurting you.” Dean reached up to run his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, delighting in the soft strands brushing over his skin, and then he cupped Castiel’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over the stubbled skin. “You gotta be shitting me if you think I was just gonna stand there and watch her – _torture_ you. Especially after…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Castiel’s look very clearly communicated that they were both thinking about his time as Alastair’s captive and when Dean had come to rescue him.

“You’re just gonna have to accept that I’ll do anything for ya,” Dean said. “Even if it’s the worst thing I could possibly do, and I definitely shouldn’t do it.”

“And if I said that I would do exactly the same, you would accept that?” Castiel said with a raised eyebrow. “Did you also accept that in the other timeline?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Smartass,” he said, then slid his hand over Castiel’s clothed ass and squeezed. Castiel jumped and sucked in a deep breath. “Great ass.”

“You flatter me,” Castiel deadpanned. Dean squeezed again, causing Castiel to let out a small sound and drop his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder. “Are – are you trying to seduce me?”

“I dunno,” Dean grinned. “Is it working?”

Though Castiel didn’t say anything, Dean got his answer loud and clear from the hot, hard lump suddenly pressing into his hip. He shifted, dragging his body along Castiel’s erection, and Castiel whined and bit into the meat between Dean’s neck and shoulder.

“Dean –” With tremendous effort, Castiel pulled away and kicked the covers away, exposing both their bodies to the cool bunker air. When Dean tried to move, to roll them over so that he could start covering Castiel in kisses, Castiel grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed. Dean’s stomach jolted.

“Cas, what –”

“Relax,” Castiel said. “Just relax. After everything, you – you deserve this.”

He peeled Dean’s boxer briefs down slowly, almost reverently, as though Dean’s body was an offering, and Dean shuddered when his cock was exposed. The air around them wasn’t that chilly, but his cock was flushed hot and standing proudly in front of Castiel’s face and so the air felt far cooler than it really was. The way Castiel’s breath ghosted over the heated skin sent shivers down Dean’s spine, and he gasped and tangled his fingers in Castiel’s hair when the angel licked a wet stripe up his shaft.

“Later,” Castiel said, trailing small kitten licks up Dean’s dick. “Later, I’ll be able to truly give your body the love it deserves. Right now, I just want to make you feel good, Dean. I want to erase all traces of that – that _assbutt_ from you. This body isn’t _his_. It’s _yours_.” Castiel leaned up so that he could press open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s stomach, slowly working his hand over Dean’s cock as he did so, and Dean couldn’t even muster the brain power to focus on the ‘assbutt’ thing long enough to laugh. Castiel had to be doing _something_ with his mojo because this was the most intense goddamn handjob Dean had ever had.

“ _Cas_ –”

“And _you_ are _mine_. Not in the sense of ownership, but in the sense that you chose to give your body to me. What you gave Michael was nothing more than a coerced technicality. And I will always treasure your freely given consent. Always, Dean.”

The man in question groaned and thrust his hips up into Castiel’s hand, desperately seeking the friction he’d been deprived of for weeks. Thank god, though, since the thought of Michael using his body like that with another person was enough to make him want to hurl, and – right, enough thinking about that douchebag. He was gone, hurtling down to be born as a human baby to some poor schmuck, assuming that this really wasn’t just a trick – nope, it couldn’t be. No way could Michael capture Castiel’s essence to this degree when it came to the chemistry between them.

_Realrealrealrealreal –_

When Dean came moments later, it was to the feeling of Castiel’s hand milking every last drop while hot pleasure shuddered through his body, cementing him in reality, purging every last minuscule trace of Michael from him. He sagged against the mattress while Castiel nipped at the skin under his navel, leaving one last mark among the others already blossoming, then crawled up to snuggle against his side, one arm thrown across his stomach.

“‘Bout you?” Dean said, voice slightly slurred.

“Later.” Castiel nuzzled into the crook of his neck and kissed the flushed skin. “You should talk to everybody else now that you’re well-rested.”

“Do I have to?” Dean whined. “I got an archangel ripped outta me, so that means I should rest and recover. I should totally be staying in bed all day having hot, healing sex with my angel boyfriend and his magic dick.”

“If you feel that you need to recover from Michael, sex is the last thing you should be doing,” Castiel said. “We should wait until you feel healed enough to have a proper conversation. Sex is probably too strenuous for you at the moment.”

Dean shot an alarmed look down at Castiel, only to catch sight of the way the angel’s bright blue eyes were gleaming similarly to how Gabriel’s often shone.

“After all, your health is of utmost concern –”

“You little shit,” Dean muttered, though the kiss he pressed to Castiel’s dark, messy hair cancelled out his annoyed tone. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever.  Time to face the music, I s’pose. But then –” He jabbed a finger at Castiel. “But then we’re comin’ back here and you’re using that magic dick on me. You capiche?”

The smile on Castiel’s face was tender, downright adorable, and Dean hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed it – how much he _loved_ it – until now, after he’d spent weeks cooped up in his own mind.

_Realrealrealreal –_

“I capiche,” Castiel said, then leaned up to kiss Dean on the lips. “Now, go and talk to your family.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean took one last moment to drink in the warm comfort of being snuggled with his celestial boyfriend on his memory foam before sliding out from under the covers. He bent to grab his underwear, making sure to give Castiel a damn great view of his ass in the process, and he didn’t miss how the angel’s eyes were slightly blown when he turned around.

“Comin’?” Dean said. “Or are you just gonna be a lazy shit and stay in bed to torment me ‘cause I gotta get up?”

“Go talk to your family, Dean,” Castiel said. This time, Dean didn’t quite miss the smidgen of difference in Castiel’s tone at the word ‘family’. “And Jack and Anna. They’ve all been worried about you.”

“So, are you including yourself in that family thing?” Dean said. “‘Cause if you ain’t, I’m gonna call Bobby to bring Claire over just so she can kick you in the shins.”

Castiel rolled his eyes – no doubt having picked that up from Dean, who was totally a bad influence no matter which timeline he was in – but still followed Dean out of bed and pulled his slacks on, though he forewent a belt. Despite the angel’s air of annoyance, however, Dean didn’t fail to notice how Castiel moved as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after that declaration of family. The smile on Castiel’s face when he turned around was so soft and so beautiful that Dean wanted to double over and burst into tears at just how amazingly gorgeous his boyfriend was. That is, if Dean was a crier. Which he totally wasn’t. He most definitely didn’t enjoy sappy romantic movies just so he could project his own suppressed feelings and cry at the cheesy romance.

_Realrealreal –_

“Let’s go,” Castiel said.

“You gonna put a shirt on?” Dean said before Castiel could leave. “I mean, not that I got any complaints about you bein’ shirtless, but we don’t need to make it _that_ obvious that we just had a quickie. Well, half a quickie.”

“I’d hardly call that quick,” Castiel said. “Your stamina was remarkable despite the grace in you amplifying the sensation.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean spluttered, holding a finger up. “What. The. _Hell_. The grace in me? Was Michael even in me long enough?”

“Angel vessels always contain vestiges of grace, no matter the length of time the angel was possessing them,” Castiel said. “The effect is largely amplified by archangel grace, so containing Michael for weeks left a significant trace in you. Not to mention the grace left from when I cradled your soul as I lifted you from the Pit. That would have still remained even a decade into the future of your other timeline.”

“I’m not gonna sprout wings, am I?” Dean said, his heart suddenly forceful in its beating. “Or hear angel radio in my head? I draw the line at flashing eyes, I swear to god.”

_Realreal –_

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dean,” Castiel said. “The most you should experience is your senses being heightened, as you no doubt felt when you orgasmed before. You may also have a higher tolerance for our true forms now.”

“So, what, you won’t blow my eardrums out if you’re singin’ in the shower?” Dean said. Castiel squinted at him.

“I don’t shower. And I don’t sing – oh. I’m not entirely sure, but you should be able to perceive my true voice without being harmed.”

“Cool, now I can get a bit of wing action,” Dean smirked, reaching out to run his fingers down Castiel’s back. Castiel shivered violently.

“I – yes, I may be able to show a physical representation that you can perceive – Dean, stop distracting me!” He stepped away from Dean and grabbed the white shirt dumped on the floor. “You need to face your family sooner or later, and I highly suggest you do it sooner.” He did the buttons up haphazardly, then reached for his suit jacket and trench coat that were also in a heap on the floor. And it wasn’t even Dean’s fault, since _he_ wasn’t the slob around here.

“ _Fine_ ,” Dean whined. “I see how it is. C’mon, come and get your rocks off on me gettin’ my ass chewed out.”

“I’ll be the only one ‘chewing your ass’, thank you very much,” Castiel muttered as Dean headed for the door. Dean snorted loudly and went to comment on those air quotes, but Castiel’s flat look convinced him that it was very much in his best interests to not do that, so he sighed loudly and followed Castiel out of their bedroom.

 _Real_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I'm so horrible at updating even though the fic's actually done, so I'm just gonna post the last three chapters at once. My inspiration for SPN has flatlined, so I think this sense of finality and finishing something is what I need.
> 
> Thanks to beautiful_pain for your comment :)

 

When Dean emerged from the bedroom hallway into the main room of the bunker, he was only expecting to see Sam, Mary, Henry, Jack, and Anna. Maybe Gabriel, if Chuck had deigned to let him go by then. What he wasn’t expecting to see, however, was Bobby already finishing off a bottle of beer, with Claire being given a lesson in basic gun stuff by Sam.

“Wow, really?” Dean said. “You guys couldn’t beat my ass by yourselves, so you brought the old man and the shin-kicker?”

Claire lived up to her nickname by dropping the gun and magazine she was holding, striding up to Dean, then kicking him squarely in his right shin.

“Jesus fuck!” he yelped, dancing away and hopping on his uninjured leg. “What the hell, kid?”

“You – you _walnut_!” Claire yelled. “Why would you _do_ something like that?”

“Because Cas was being fucking _tortured_ , thank you very much,” Dean snapped, sinking down into a chair so he could rub his aching shin. “You can kick me all you want but I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.”

Claire glowered and crossed her arms, but she didn’t resist when Dean stood back up to pull her into a hug. After a moment, she unfolded her arms so that she could wrap them around Dean’s waist, and everybody in the room dutifully pretended that they didn’t hear the sob she let slip into his shirt.

“I’m still mad at you,” Claire said when she finally pulled away. “The only reason I’m not hitting you again is because –”

Bobby cleared his throat. Claire pasted a wide, dazzlingly false smile on her face.

“Because I care about you very much and wouldn’t want to cause you more pain!” she chirped. When Bobby was looking at Dean instead of her, she scowled at him, and Dean had to fight to conceal his smirk at that.

“Boy, if Claire hadn’t booted ya, I’d have whacked ya round the head for that,” Bobby said. “The hell were you thinkin’?”

“That Cas was in danger and there was no other way?” Dean said. “Seriously, if one more person asks me that, I’m gonna grab that gun there and shoot ‘em.”

“I very strongly discourage that,” Castiel said. Dean turned to smirk and argue, only to find that the look in Castiel’s eye was a very clear message that he really should not argue if he wanted to continue to orgasm for the next month. He probably still wasn’t out of the woods about the Michael thing either.

“So –” Dean began.

“Hel- _lo_!” said a painfully familiar voice, accompanied with the rustling of wings. Dean groaned loudly and turned to see Gabriel standing there with his trademark shit-eating grin.

“Didn’t you get put in time-out by daddy dearest?” Dean said.

“Nah,” Gabriel said. “I just got a slap on the ass –”

“ _Gross_ , Gabriel!” Anna said.

“– and told to stay down here with the itty-bitty humans.” Gabriel shrugged. “Something about Raphael watching Heaven and me watching Earth. I dunno, I kinda tuned out like any normal son would.”

Dean caught Sam’s eye and rolled his own eyes. The bitchface Sam shot him in return made him snort loudly, earning a suspicious look from Gabriel as he struggled to wrest his laughter back under control.

“Anywho,” Gabriel said, “here I am playing messenger for Dad again before I can fuck off and go get laid with a margarita in hand. He told me to tell you lot –” he gestured around at Sam, Dean, Anna, Mary, and Henry, “– that you’re no longer legally dead slash insane slash whatever, so go wild if you wanna be normies for once. I always found lawyers hot.” He winked at Sam, who rolled his eyes, but Dean didn’t miss the emotion that flickered across his brother’s face at the word ‘lawyer’.

“Being legally un-dead doesn’t count for much when you’re physically only a few years older than your sons,” Mary said. “Something I never thought I’d say.”

“Ditto,” Henry said. “I highly doubt anybody would believe me if I said that I was their grandfather.”

“Yeah, this devilishly handsome archangel pointed that out,” Gabriel said. “Gramps, you’re now their long-lost cousin on the Winchester side. Luci-puncher, same for you on the Campbell half. And Jack here is Claire’s cousin. You’re welcome.”

Mary looked way too pleased with her nickname, although to be fair she _had_ earned it.

“Cassie, baby.” Gabriel finger-gunned Castiel, who simply regarded him with a blank look. “Dad fucked with reality to do it but you’re now Jimmy Novak’s twin brother. Birth certificate, school paperwork, everything you need to blend in with the humans. Even fake memories for anyone who’s alive and knew Jimmy, except pipsqueak there.” The archangel pointed at Claire, who was frozen and staring at Castiel with wide blue eyes. “So, if ya wanna adopt the shithead or anything, go for it, since she’s now technically your niece. Or you can leave her with Grumps. Whatever. And since Jack’s now Claire’s cousin, that makes him your kid. The paperwork even says so.”

“Paperwork?” Anna said. “Did Chuck give Jack paperwork too?”

Gabriel snapped his fingers in response and a piece of paper appeared in Castiel’s hand. When Castiel didn’t say anything or even move to look at it, Dean chanced a sideways look. The angel’s face was still blank, but what was flashing behind his eyes left Dean breathless, unable to keep up. It was one of the things he loved most about Castiel, but it also made it incredibly difficult to follow the guy. Gently, he reached out to grab the paper so that he could read what was on it.

It was a birth certificate for one Jack Kline, dated ‘May 18, 1996’, with Castiel Novak as the father and the mother listed as Kelly Kline. At first, Dean couldn’t fathom how the hell they could get away with that when this Kelly Kline was younger and hadn’t even slept with Castiel, let alone the guy with Lucifer as a passenger yet (and wouldn’t ever do so in this timeline). But then he realised that both Kelly and Kline weren’t very uncommon names, so it wasn’t like anyone was going to connect the dots to _that_ Kelly Kline. Especially if they could just claim that Jack’s mom was dead. Unless Jack went full-on attracting the FBI’s attention, it was unlikely that people would start nosing around for death certificates or whatnot.

“How the hell’s Cas the dad on here?” Dean said, handing the certificate to Jack. The kid’s eyes widened as he scanned the words on the page. “Couldn’t your dad have – I dunno – snapped up a random father?”

“Nah,” Gabriel said. “Whoever the guy that your Lucifer possessed was, Dad wrote out his DNA and replaced it with Cassie’s vessel’s DNA when he aged the kid down, not that it made much of a difference when he already looked like your kid anyway. So…surprise, little bro, you’re a dad now! And the official story is you didn’t know he existed until his mom croaked, ‘cause call me a jackass but I’m thinking Jack here doesn’t want to give up his Kline last name and be a Novak like he would’ve if you were around when he was popped out. All ‘officially’, of course.”

Castiel looked so panicked in that moment that Dean squeezed his hand, ready to drag him back down to earth if he lost his shit even though Dean himself was also wondering if any of this was real. Like…Castiel being Jack’s biological dad and officially a human citizen? Dean being able to show his face in public again without worrying that someone would say, “Hey, you look an awful lot like that murderer Dean Winchester!” and make him break out in a sweat? Sam going back to _school_ if he wanted? It was just – it was just too good to be true.

“I – I don’t know if I would be any good at raising a child. I mean –” Castiel gestured at himself, “– I took a young girl’s father from her. That hardly inspires confidence in my parenting skills.”

While Dean struggled with his impending panic attack, Gabriel’s face settled into a mask of seriousness.

“Cas,” Gabriel said, “if you think you’d be a shitty father, I’ll eat my wings. The first thing you did when you saw Claire was apologise to her for possessing Jimmy – Anna told me so because she was totally eavesdropping and I’m so proud of my baby sister –”

Anna shot him a nasty look but didn’t say anything, no doubt recognising the seriousness of the situation.

“– and all you’ve done since then is be there for her. You’ve got an annoyingly big heart and you’re just sappy enough to keep Mr Suppress-My-Emotions over there on his toes.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said. His voice came out just breathy enough that everybody else frowned at him, so he pasted on a smile that convinced approximately zero people. With a deep sigh, Gabriel snapped his fingers and a thin piece of brown leather appeared around Dean’s right wrist.

“You ever start doubting reality, just give that a squeeze,” the archangel said. “It’ll react to Cassie’s grace no matter where either of you are, so he can comfort you. And you know how Cassie’s grace feels and that even archangel mind games can’t replicate it.”

Experimentally, Dean gave the bracelet a small pinch. Warmth immediately radiated out from the leather and up his arm, and Castiel’s hand squeezed his just a little harder. When Dean pinched the bracelet again, the grace warmth drained away.

“Thanks,” Dean said, his respect for the shit-talking archangel begrudgingly rising. Gabriel might have been an asshole, but he was there when it counted. Maybe Dean could back off his ass a little. Gabriel grinned and finger-gunned him with a click of the tongue.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Mary said quietly. Dean dared to shoot a look at his mother and was met with a soft smile in his direction, one that…felt like home. Fuck. Last thing Dean needed was to think sappy shit like that. One might think he was indulging in feelings or something.

“Eh, no skin off my back,” Gabriel said. “Anything to stop Dean from whining to Daddy dearest and leaving me to cop the dadtrums. And Cassie, think of Jack and Claire as your beta project. Daddy dearest gave me an IOU to give to you and Dean for a kid or two of your own.”

“But he said the equipment was wrong!” Dean burst out as the memory of his awkward conversation with Chuck forced its way to the forefront of his mind. “He said –”

“I’m gonna assume that Dad was epically trolling you and tell you that he’ll just mix up a soul and grace batter and pop the bun out pre-made,” Gabriel said. “No baking required. Man, I gotta ask him what he said to make you react like _that_.”

“I’ll deep-fry your wings to a crisp if you do,” Dean growled.

“I’m sure you will,” Gabriel said with a patronising little smile. “Look, with how much Jack makes you wanna pinch his cheeks, Dad figured he’d ease off the nephilim thing a bit. He also said that all this is a “reward for all the shit you’ve been through to improve this timeline” but I reckon he’s just bribing ya so he doesn’t have to talk to you anymore. Anyways, I’m outta here. Call if ya need, don’t be surprised if I turn up in a gold loincloth –”

“Damn, can I come?” Dean said. He was swiftly discouraged by the looks that Sam, Castiel, Mary, Anna, and Bobby shot him.

“Tough luck, kiddo,” Gabriel said with another finger-gun. “You’re not getting out of that ‘how could you say yes to asshole Mikey’ lecture so easily.” He vanished, leaving Dean surrounded by people who no doubt wanted to tear strips out of him for taking the hard road to save someone’s ass. Honestly, people were so damn unappreciative these days.

“Well,” Dean said. “If this is the thanks I get for saving my hot boyfriend’s life, you can all fuckin’ burn next time.”

“Whatever will we do without you,” Anna deadpanned.

“Yeah, what _would_ you have done if I hadn’t come back?” Dean said. Okay, so maybe he was being an unfair asshole about this, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his possession. How the hell was he supposed to put into words just how it had felt to be crammed into a corner of his mind, unable to so much as blink –

Fuck. He squeezed his new bracelet and fought the urge to close his eyes as the warm grace curled around his hand and up his arm, like Castiel himself was running his hand down the skin. Looking around, nobody was exactly looking at him with pity or sympathy or whatever, but their straight faces were so blank that it was obvious they were hiding it.

“You know what? Fuck this,” Dean snarled, irrational white-hot anger searing through him. “Quit lookin’ at me like I’m some poor little guy who’s made of glass.”

“We’re not –” Sam tried to say.

“You’re making it obvious that you’re trying not to, which is pretty much the same fucking thing. I’m not gonna stand here and be treated like some science experiment ‘cause you all want to poke and prod at my mind and get me to talk about fuckin’ feelings. You know what? _I can’t_. I can’t just up and out with some cheesy, emotional spiel about how bad it was and reality vs fantasy and what the fuck ever. And you know, the only people – the _only_ two people – who could’ve been able to understand were the other Sam and Cas.”

Okay, so that was probably the wrong thing to say after spending months reassuring this Sam and Castiel that he didn’t regret leaving the other timeline and didn’t see them as replacements. His stomach lurched when Castiel let go of his hand, although the warmth from the bracelet remained, and he didn’t dare shoot a sideways look for fear of what he’d find on Castiel’s face.

“That’s not fair, Dean!” Sam’s face was twisted, although whether with rage or hurt, Dean couldn’t tell. Probably both. “I thought you didn’t regret –”

“I don’t!” Dean jabbed a finger at Sam. “I don’t fuckin’ regret comin’ here one bit. I don’t see you and Cas as replacements. But considering that it was the _other_ Sam and Cas who got possessed by archangels and have a _shred_ of understanding of what the fuck it’s like, forgive me for feeling just a bit fuckin’ alone!”

Before anyone else could say anything, Dean stormed out of the room and down the hallway to his bedroom, where he threw himself face-first on the bed and screamed into his pillow. As much as he craved Castiel’s comforting warmth – and his bracelet was still active, channelling wisps of Castiel’s grace through his arm – he prayed that Castiel wouldn’t come and find him. It wasn’t like he could just kick the angel out of their room now that they shared it.

Reality was crashing down on him. After spending so many weeks as a puppet for Michael, of course he shouldn’t have expected to be able to just slide back into life as usual. Of course he should’ve expected the others to want to talk about it. And yet…and yet, was it really that selfish to expect things to go back to normal? That was why he’d come back, wasn’t it? Everyone else got a second chance. But him? Okay, so he couldn’t complain, especially when he and Castiel were finally together and Chuck had performed a fixer-upper so they could show their faces in normal society again. But still –

A knock on the door wrenched Dean from the whirling storm clouds of his mind. He groaned and raised his head, blinking blearily as the fuzzy, dim light of the room wavered into focus after his eyes had been closed for too long. “What?” he snapped, brushing his hand over his bracelet to reassure himself that he was still feeling Castiel’s grace.

“Can I come in?” Mary’s voice said from the other side, slightly muffled by the obstacle between them. On the one hand, the thought of talking to anyone at the moment was enough to make Dean’s skin crawl. On the other hand? He hadn’t actually talked to his mom properly since that time Chuck had taken over his dream. And if he was going to be forced to talk to anyone, it might as well be the one person from the old timeline who actually kind of knew him.

“Whatever.”

The door creaked open and Mary slipped inside, closing it behind her. Now that Dean could get a proper look at her, he noticed that her hair was once again cut short as it had been in the other timeline, framing her face softly. She crossed over to sit on the bed next to him, keeping eye contact so that he couldn’t just hide his face in his pillow again.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” he said.

“I’m not going to ask you to,” Mary said calmly. “Dean, honey, no one was going to make you talk about it. They were all just…” She sighed and reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder blade, the warmth of her hand almost like an anchor for his jittery mind. “After all those weeks of worrying and stressing and trying to figure out what to do, we just wanted to slap you around the head. Especially me, since I got dropped in here only to find that my son had gone and done _that_.”

Guilt wormed its way through Dean, nibbling at his gut. “‘M sorry,” he said. “I just – after Hell the first time around, all anyone wanted to do was push me to freaking talk about it.”

“And you weren’t ready.” Mary squeezed his shoulder, her nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to talk about this. You just have to let us kick you up the ass for it.”

Dean looked down and snorted. “That’s fair. But I…Barachiel was torturing Cas. I couldn’t – I couldn’t let him be hurt.” His voice cracked just enough to let him feel embarrassed about that. “I know it was stupid but –”

“I would’ve done the same for John.” Mary half-shrugged. “Apparently, I _did_ do the same for John. Kind of. I sold my son’s soul, anyway. And my children’s lives.”

“And if you hadn’t said yes, the entire world would’ve gone to hell,” Dean said. “We don’t blame you, Mom. Besides, Dad’s the one who raised us like that. You didn’t make him go and treat us like soldiers. He could’ve dealt with it like a normal person and not hauled us around the country to gank monsters while we were kids.”

“Hmm.” Mary lifted her hand to brush strands of Dean’s short hair away from his forehead. Dean let his eyes flutter closed as he leaned into the touch, hand on his new bracelet to make sure that this was real. “Come back out, baby. Let everyone yell at you.”

“Why would that make me want to come out?” Dean said with a weak smirk. Mary just laughed and stood up.

“I’m still your mom,” she said. “And I can ground you if you don’t do what I say.”

No way would Dean actually adhere to a grounding, but he still rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of bed with a groan. As much as he hated to admit it, Mary was right. May as well face the music sooner rather than later.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you owe me pie.”

“I’ll get you the tastiest pie I can,” Mary said with a small grin. “The best one a mother can buy pre-made.”

With a snort, Dean pinched his bracelet to cut off the flow of grace. He wasn’t sure yet if it actively tapped into Castiel’s grace or was just attuned to it, and he didn’t want to siphon off his boyfriend any longer than necessary. There was a self-deprecating comment there just waiting to happen, but Mary would slap him upside the head if he dared say it, so he just squared his shoulders and followed her out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Yes, I pinched the Dean speech from 14.03. Sue me.

 

Okay, pro-tip: don’t go on a tirade and then storm out of the room. When Dean shuffled into the main room with Mary, his hands in his jean pockets, everybody stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him like they were a hive mind. He grinned and waved rather awkwardly.

“Hey. Hi,” he said. “So, I might have been out of line before. But I really don’t regret comin’ back, ya know. I just…”

“You were frustrated and panicked,” Sam said, marking his page and setting his book aside. “We get it. Just – it really hurt, Dean. You know how much we worried about you using us as some sort of replacement.”

“What can I say? I’m an asshole,” Dean said. He tried to shoot a sheepish grin at Castiel, but the angel just looked away. Dean’s grin faded. Okay, yeah, he deserved that one. He damn well knew Castiel’s insecurities around being the 2.0 version, yet he’d still gone ahead and thrown it back in the guy’s face.

“And that ain’t ever true,” he continued. “Look, no matter how much I panic and say shit, you guys have never been a replacement. Ever. It was shitty of me to imply it. I just –” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m happy I stopped all that shit, but…I kinda miss havin’ people who know what it’s like. You and Cas here ain’t ever had an archangel shoved up your ass, so like…I can’t just fumble my words and have you get what it’s like without needing to say it.”

“That’s…fair.” Sam pushed his chair back to climb to his feet with his long limbs, then strode over to pull Dean into a tight hug. Dean choked, arms flailing, and he silently implored Mary for help over Sam’s shoulder but she just smirked and watched him slowly suffocate to death by moose.

“Sammy – fuck off –” Dean wheezed. He sucked in a deep gasp of air when Sam finally released him from the death grip, then backed away while resisting the urge to comically grab his ribs. He would’ve been deflecting, and he knew it.

“Was it really that bad?” Claire said. Anna elbowed her in the side. “Ow! What? I’m not asking him to write a book or anything!”

“It was,” Dean said before he could chicken out. So long as he didn’t actually talk about feelings, this was totally possible. Maybe. But, despite his resolve to not devolve into a chick flick session, the words came pouring out of his mouth anyway, like getting them all out would magically fix him. “I remember some shit – I know he smote the crap out of this guy who killed his wife and daughter, that was when I was really startin’ to fight back and piss him off –”

The looks of horror that rippled throughout the room didn’t go unnoticed. While everyone got that ‘oh no, Michael smote people with Dean’s hands!’ crap out of their system, Dean tried to avoid joining them for fear of taking a super fun trip down memory lane. If he could just get this all out without stumbling and stammering, it would be like ripping off a band-aid. Then he could tell everyone to fuck off when they tried to ‘be there for him’ later.

“– but I don’t remember most of what Michael did with me ‘cause I was underwater. Drowning. And that, I remember. I felt every second of it. Clawing, fighting for air. I thought I could make it out but I – I couldn’t. I – I wasn’t strong enough.” Dean took a deep breath, furiously ignoring the stinging in his eyes. “Sometimes he’d put me in djinn dreams. Sometimes he’d talk to me. And speakin’ of talking, I’m done here.” Dean saluted at everyone else and made the hastiest retreat he could make while also preserving what scraps of dignity he still had left.

He was half-expecting Castiel to catch up to him once he was in his room, so it wasn’t a surprise that there was a knock on the door as soon as he’d flopped face-first on his bed. He groaned into his pillow, then figured that he’d better let the guy in before he pulled some angelic shit and unlocked the door with grace.

“Open it y’rself,” Dean called, voice muffled by his pillow. There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of the lock clicking and the door being pushed open. Dean stiffened. That wasn’t Castiel. The footsteps were much lighter, the door opening almost uncertainly, and he reached under his pillow for the gun he always kept there, even though it’d do absolutely nothing if this really was another Michael illusion.

But it couldn’t be. He’d felt Cas’ grace. It wasn’t – he fumbled for his bracelet, pinched it, then looked over his shoulder so he could keep his gun hidden.

“Hello.” Jack gave a small wave, an awkward little smile on his face like he wasn’t quite sure how to act human. “I thought I should explain why I’m here, and I also thought you might appreciate talking about something other than Michael. At least, I know that’s how I would feel if something like that happened to me.”

The gracelet, as Dean had christened it, was still pleasantly warm around his wrist. Okay, so this was real. Not that Dean would have a clue of Jack’s real personality to be able to tell if this was a Michael thing, to be honest.

“Sure, why the hell not,” Dean said, letting go of his gun so he could turn over but positioning his hand next to his pillow so he could grab it again at a moment’s notice. “Not like I got anythin’ better to do other than sit around feelin’ sorry for myself otherwise.”

Jack headed for the bed but paused just before sitting down. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

After perching on the end of the bed – and really, Dean appreciated the kid’s obvious effort to maintain personal space, since he was liable to punch anyone who got too close at the moment – Jack took a moment to stare at Dean and compose his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Dean finally said. He felt a sliver of guilt when Jack jumped, but he couldn’t be assed apologising. Hell, he still wasn’t fully sure if he could trust the guy, whatever the others said. After all, he was the only one out of them who’d laid eyes on Jack in the other timeline; even Mary hadn’t actually seen him after his birth.

“I didn’t mean to traverse timelines the first time,” Jack blurted out, as though getting it out quickly would soften any blows. “I heard God say that you were going back in time and the timeline would be erased, and I – I suppose it was instinct. I didn’t have control over my powers then. All I know is I didn’t want to not exist, so I…made myself exist by jumping into another timeline.”

Okay, that made sense. Mary was still around because of falling into the alternate universe, after all. But that still didn’t mean Dean could trust him.

“So…why are you _here_?” Dean said. “You said ‘the first time’.”

“I wanted to find you.” Jack looked up, giving a glimpse into his eyes, and Dean couldn’t find any trace of deceit. No, what he saw was an earnest innocence that had been presence in Sam’s eyes so many years ago, when he was just a poor, innocent kid trying to find his way in the shitty world. His suspicion of Jack started to relax ever so slightly. “Your soul was one of the only ones I knew from the other timeline. I wanted someone familiar, so I trained my powers to learn how to transport myself through timelines. And…”

“And?” Dean prompted when Jack looked down, fidgeting with a loose thread in his ugly brown sweater.

“And…I felt responsible.” Jack’s mouth twisted. “Castiel died because of me. Because I opened that rift…because I _existed_. I wanted to make it up to you by helping you any way I could.”

“Why?” Dean spread his hands, unsure what the fuck to think. “Why the hell would the spawn of Satan want to play nice with the guys who shoved him back in his cage?”

Jack’s head whipped up at that. “Lucifer isn’t my father,” he snarled, eyes glowing faintly gold. “I don’t want anything to do with him – with _any_ version of him. Castiel is my father. I chose him from my mother’s womb. I could feel his _goodness_ – his _rightness_ – and I knew I wanted him to protect me. Not that disgusting, oily thing that acted like it was protecting my mom. I could _feel_ how horrible it was. I wanted it gone, so I helped Castiel kill it.”

“Dagon,” Dean muttered. With a sigh, he swiped a hand over his face and rubbed his palm over his forehead briefly to stave off a headache. The gracelet’s soothing warmth dug tendrils into his head from where his wrist was pressed to his forehead, and he had to force himself to lower his hand and lose that relief. He didn’t want to use more grace than he absolutely needed to; not until he knew whether this was a drain on Castiel.

“Dagon?” Jack said.

“Prince of Hell. Demon. That was her name.”

“Demons are foul.” Jack wrinkled his nose.

“Yep. And Lucifer’s the one who made ‘em. Figured out how to twist souls till they lost their humanity.”

The horror in Jack’s eyes made Dean wonder if he was maybe being a bit too hard on the kid.

“I know you hate me. Michael said so,” Jack said, his voice cracking like a child trying not to cry. He _was_ a child, wasn’t he? Dean wasn’t sure exactly how long Jack had been alive, but even if it was for at least the year since Dean had come back, that still made him only a baby in mind. A baby who’d had to grow up way faster than he should have. And Dean would know all about that, wouldn’t he?

_“Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back! Now, Dean, go!”_

“I don’t hate you,” Dean said automatically, surprised by the lack of untruth in his denial. However young he was, though, Jack seemed well-versed in the human concept of lying to save one’s feelings, because he just looked away.

“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better, Dean,” Jack said. “If – if me being here is just going to cause you pain, I’ll leave. I don’t want to hurt you even more –”

“My god, Cas _is_ your dad,” Dean said. Caught off-guard, Jack’s pity party spluttered into silence. “Stupidly noble and all. Look, kid, I really don’t hate you. Maybe if we were in the other timeline and I had to deal with you on top of losing the other Cas? Yeah, I would’ve been bad, woulda blamed you and taken it out on you. But I got this Cas, and I’ve had a year and loads of support to deal with losing the other Cas, and it ain’t your fault. It’s not. It’s Lucifer’s. You couldn’t exactly help bein’ conceived and born. Michael was an angelic asshole who was outta touch with human emotions.”

“But –”

“Take it from me, kid.” Dean reached over to briefly pat Jack on the shoulder, very firmly shoving aside the nagging thought that he was acting _fatherly_. “Beating yourself up over shit you didn’t do just builds up and crushes ya. Save it for shit you _did_ do, yeah?”

For a moment, Jack didn’t say anything. Then he let out a weak little laugh. “You’re a lot like Sam. Even this other Sam. He told me not to blame myself for things that weren’t my fault as well. And to deal with the things I did do.”

“Smart kid, Sammy,” Dean said. “Reckon you should listen to him.”

“I think so too.” Jack looked Dean straight in the eye. “Dean…I felt Castiel’s love for you. When I helped him kill Dagon. I showed him paradise, and his paradise was happiness with you. I – I think he would be happy to know that you’re happy with this Castiel. I know this isn’t your Castiel, but I’ve seen how much he loves you. It’s not exactly like the other Castiel’s, but it’s _there_. And it’s _beautiful_ , and I know it will grow to be just as big as the other Castiel’s love for you. I just know it! And I – that love is why I chose Castiel over Lucifer. Seeing this timeline’s Lucifer before…that confirmed that I made the right choice.”

Dean had to look away or risk tearing up, because his emotions seemed determined to really screw him over now that he had his body back and had to deal with the aftermath.

“Dean…” Jack looked away for a moment, then his resolve seemed to steel, and he looked back at Dean. “Will you…”

“Spit it out, kid,” Dean said when Jack didn’t speak again.

“Will…you and Mary tell me about my mom? What you knew of her? You and Mary are the only people who knew her and still exist. And I know my mom in this timeline exists but it’s not the same – she’s not my mom, she won’t even have me –”

“Hey. Hey.” Dean held up a hand to stem Jack’s rambling. “One day. When we’ve all got our shit together. And…don’t even think about goin’ anywhere. If you wanna stay, you got a h – a place with all the other fuck-ups.”

He couldn’t say home. Not yet, not when he barely knew the kid. Not when he was still sorting out his own head. But the way Jack’s face absolutely lit up told him that he’d made the right call in letting him stay. Dean returned his smile weakly, then looked down at his gracelet and began to roll it between his fingers, relishing in the soft, grounding warmth.

“You mind gettin’ Cas for me?” Dean said. “Don’t really wanna see the others right now.”

“Yes! Of course!” Jack jumped up and rushed out of the room. The silence gave Dean a few precious moments to gather his thoughts and screw his head back on, although he couldn’t deny that Castiel’s entrance was a very welcome distraction. While he wasn’t questioning reality and hallucinating like Sam had after his wall had been broken, he did feel slightly floaty and unreal; like he was out of sync with the world around him, like he was dancing a slightly different dance to everyone else or was just one step out of rhythm.

“Dean?” Castiel sat down and reached for Dean’s hands, movements careful as though he was trying not to spook a wild animal. “Your bracelet is active. Are you okay?”

“‘M not draining your grace, am I?” Dean mumbled, avoiding Castiel’s eyes, looking down at his lap while fiddling with his gracelet. He pinched it between his fingers to turn it off, although the sudden lack of warmth left him feeling cold and even more adrift, like he’d pulled in his anchor and was now being carried off by the current.

“No. I hardly notice it, aside from a tug in your direction.” Castiel gently took his hand, clasping their fingers for a moment before wrapping Dean’s fingers around the gracelet and not letting go until Dean activated it. “And even if it was a drain, I would allow you to take all my grace if it brought you a modicum of comfort.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” Dean laughed feebly, blinking rapidly to chase off the stinging in his eyes. “Don’t. You always give everything up for me.”

“And you don’t?” Castiel shot back.  “You gave yourself up because I was being tortured. You gave up your whole life to come back and live among unfamiliar people on the mere chance you could change things for the better. You always give everything up for everybody else. Let us take care of you for a change.”

Dean shook his head without a word. The stinging was more persistent now, like bees were stinging his eyeballs, and he tried to turn so he could flop on his belly and bury his face in his pillow and maybe even suffocate himself in the process. But Castiel’s gentle but solid grip on his bicep stopped him in his tracks.

“There’s no shame in breaking, Dean,” Castiel said as Dean took deep gulps of air, trying to keep himself together. If only this was a panic attack and not just overwhelming emotions crashing down on him, because then he might stand a chance of fighting it off. “I’ve witnessed humans who have been through so much allow themselves to break. It’s how you begin to heal.”

But Dean couldn’t break. He couldn’t. He was Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, the guy who’d lived through an apocalypse and the rest of the menu that followed. And just because he was in a slightly better emotional state of being now than he used to be, that didn’t mean that he could just let himself break. If he broke, what hope did anyone else have?

“Dean. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Dean dragged his eyes away from his hands and let himself meet Cas’ eyes. There was so much in those bright blue depths – there was _that_ thing, the l-thing that Dean refused to name, refused to acknowledge, because how the hell could a celestial being feel _that_ for some puny human – and when a strangled sound escaped without his consent, Castiel just shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Dean, coaxing Dean to lean into his embrace.

“Cas –” Dean croaked. Castiel just hummed, lifting one hand to cradle Dean’s head against him, and when he began to stroke Dean’s hair, Dean finally let himself break.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Filthy wing kink didn’t feel right here so have some sensual stuff. And thanks to everyone who stuck around even though my inspo for this show has probably died a gruesome death between S14 and just...losing interest.

 

A side-effect of letting himself break was that Dean didn’t remotely have a clue of how long he sat there in Castiel’s arms, not only breaking down but breaking down _with_ someone. The extent of his breakdowns had previously been limited to destructive fits of breaking everything around him or a few tearful words to Sam (and later Cas), and even after coming back in time, he’d still really only let himself let loose if he was yelling and pacing. The others hadn’t been involved so much as being spectators, not participating in his breakdown with him apart from offering words. Unlike now.

Castiel’s arms were tight around him but not too tight, firmly grounding him while he cried into the dorky angel’s trench coat, dampening the fabric under his face. Contrary to Dean’s expectations, his full breakdown wasn’t some loud, screaming affair like the previous times he’d let himself crack. It was quiet, choked sobs muffled by the cloth covering his face, his fingers digging into Castiel’s trench coat so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised to later find that he’d torn it. It wasn’t loudly explosive; it was softly implosive, his very being crumbling inside him, his low crying and death grip the only outward indications that he was falling to pieces.

And Castiel was there for it. He held Dean close, stroking his hair, murmuring words of comfort not intended to shush him but rather to encourage him. He was Dean’s anchor, consistently, no matter which timeline Dean was in. Sam and Dean’s relationship may have been closer and stronger than the bonds within atoms, or whatever it was that Dean vaguely remembered from high school science; an unstoppable force, inseparable despite the hurdles they’d stumbled at. But despite all that, despite the beauty in how unbreakable their brotherly bond was, it was selfish. Uneven. Dean would always be the big brother, the role model, the protector. He always took from Sam, and Sam always took right back. It wasn’t _wrong_ , but…

But his bond with Castiel was different. Less unbreakable, less codependent…but less selfish. That wasn’t to say that there wasn’t selfishness in it, of course – Dean was just a selfish-ass person like that – but it was a much more _giving_ relationship. Where Dean gave himself, who he was, his very soul, Castiel gave right back, across both timelines. It was a counterbalancing act. He and Sam took, but he and Castiel gave, and both relationships were just as important, neither one more significant than the other. What Sam couldn’t give, Castiel did; and what Castiel couldn’t provide came from Sam.

Well. Okay. That was the sappiest shit Dean had ever thought, no matter how true it was. See, this was why he didn’t let himself indulge in his emotions, because then cheesy crap like that happened. Maybe he should’ve been a writer. But then he would’ve been like _Chuck_ , and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

So wrapped up in his own head, Dean didn’t notice that he’d stopped crying until he focused on the warmth of the gracelet to pull him out of the whirling abyss of his mind and found that he was just slumped against Castiel, being cradled while he took shuddering breaths. But he was no longer sobbing and losing his shit, so he supposed that was a plus.

“Wow,” he croaked. “Jesus fuck. That was a trip.”

“I take it that was the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really be vulnerable?” Castiel said, still threading fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Y’think?” Dean mumbled. Yeah, he’d let his walls down that night when Castiel had gone into his dreams and seen the future, and he’d also let them down in the other timeline, but this? This was a complete smashing of any remnant of brick left. The other times had just been gaping holes in the wall instead, easily patched up once the moment had passed.

He hated Michael. God, how Dean hated Michael. There was no way he’d be this – this _low_ if he hadn’t had an archangel riding him for weeks, using him like some disposable tool and fucking with his mind. He couldn’t help but be filled with a newfound respect for the other Sam, who’d been possessed by not only Lucifer and Gadreel but also Meg all those years ago. Not to mention Crowley when they’d had to force Gadreel out. How the hell had other Sam coped? How the hell had other _Cas_ coped after being possessed by Lucifer for _months_?

For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered if he could ever talk to the other Cas again, if wherever angels went after death was considered separate to the erased timeline, before he discarded the thought. He’d put so much time and effort into moving on that talking to the other Cas would probably set him back. Not to mention that it was totally unfair to the Castiel he had now. But at the same time, he couldn’t deny that the thought he often had of other Cas, lying in oblivion with no more chances after everything they’d been through together, was enough to make him want to cry all over again.

He was snapped out of his pity party by the feeling of something light and intangible brushing against his face and arm. He stiffened, ready to jump out of Castiel’s embrace and grab his gun, but Castiel’s lack of reaction had him pausing before he could disrupt their – god, no way was he calling it cuddling. If anything, his gracelet flared ever so slightly, becoming just that bit warmer.

“The hell was that?” Dean said hoarsely.

“What? What’s wrong, Dean?”

Dean wriggled so he could sit up, though he very pointedly didn’t remove Castiel’s arms from around him. “Something – I dunno. Thought I felt somethin’.”

Castiel said nothing but his face was crinkled in a slight frown. Okay, so that did prove that there was nothing dangerous here, but that could also have meant that Dean was losing it again and feeling shit that others couldn’t feel. Great. Was he going to turn out like other Sam?

“Is this what you felt?” Castiel said. The same light, airy thing brushed against Dean again, and the only thing stopping him from jumping up and bolting was Castiel’s firmly comforting hold.

“What the hell is that?” Dean said, loosely wrapping a finger around his gracelet.

“Remember how I told you that you may now have a higher tolerance for our true forms after I brought you to orgasm?” Castiel said. Dean’s eyes unfocused slightly as he remembered back to that mind-blowing handjob which, to be fair, was probably only mind-blowing because he’d spent weeks disconnected from his own body. Or maybe just because it was Castiel doing it. Then again, Castiel had mentioned that his senses were heightened now because of the grace in him, so that was probably a very key factor.

“Yeah,” he said dazedly.

“Dean stop thinking about sex,” Castiel chided. “That’s not the point. What you felt just then was me enveloping you with my wings, or at least as close to a physical representation of the pure energy as I can make. It’s – it’s a way for us to show protection and great love, since our wings are our most vulnerable feature.”

Dean swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth and throat had gone. “So, what –”

“And if you make a sex joke or a self-deprecating joke out of that, I won’t touch you for a week,” Castiel said. He wasn’t serious, was he? He had to know that Dean needed all the grounding touch he could get right now. But Dean wasn’t going to risk being deprived of healing angel sex, so he wisely nodded.

“Whatever,” he said.

“Would it be more helpful for your state of mind if you could see them rather than just feel them?” Castiel said.

“I mean, not that I’ll ever say no to seein’ your wings,” Dean said, “but yeah. Every time I feel shit I can’t see, I end up dead. Or choking on my own blood.”

Castiel didn’t look impressed but he said nothing. Instead, he shucked off his trench coat and suit jacket, and it was after he’d pulled off his tie and was unbuttoning his shirt that Dean realised that the guy probably didn’t want to ruin his clothes by wing tears.

“Wait, so they actually stick outta your back?” Dean said. “I woulda thought they’d be – I dunno – some intangible energy shit, or whatever it is you nerds say.”

“I can do it that way,” Castiel said, shrugging off his shirt. “And if I choose to do that outside this room, no one else will see them apart from you, Gabriel, Jack, and possibly Anna. But I also know that you’re a very sensual person and like to touch, and you would prefer to touch my bare skin rather than my clothes. I also know that you’ll probably want to have sex at some point within the next hour, so I thought I would make things easier for you.”

“See, this is why I’m with you.” Dean jabbed a finger at Castiel. “Prepared for everything. And you know me so well.”

Castiel’s lips twitched and then he closed his eyes. There was a thunderclap and a flash of lightning that illuminated the huge shadows of Castiel’s wings, but the shadows stuck around after the lightning faded, growing more and more solid by the second. It was soon possible to discern individual feathers, glossy black fading to deep blue, and they fluffed up under Dean’s gaze once the wings had fully materialised.

“Whoa.” Dean slowly reached out for Castiel’s wings as though in a trance. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_.”

“I know they’re not as attractive as other angels’ wings,” Castiel said quickly. His wings curved around his body, almost like they were shielding him from perceived judgement. “Especially not those of the archangels. Gabriel has the most brilliant golden wings, like the sun – ooh!”

Dean had cut him off by raking a hand through his feathers. They rustled and quivered under Dean’s touch, and Dean quickly backed off.

“Shit, can I touch?” he said. “Shoulda asked, but –”

“Of course you can touch.” Castiel’s words tripped over themselves. “That’s why I removed my coats and shirt. I knew you would want to touch them.”

With a small smile, Dean wriggled back to get a better angle, Castiel’s right wing extending after him as though reading his thoughts. He turned away from Castiel as the wing wrapped around him, then he raked his fingers through the feathers experimentally.

“Whoa,” Dean mumbled. Man, that was trippy as all hell. The feathers were there…but also not there? They were solid enough to touch, he could tell that much, but they felt lighter and softer than silk. It was almost like running his hands through slightly solid smoke. Unable to help himself, he leaned in and buried his face in the wing, closing his eyes to let the smell take him over. It was _Castiel_ ramped up to eleven. The stormy smell of petrichor that Dean was so accustomed to was now invading his nostrils, wrapping around him, burrowing deep inside him, and when he took a deep breath, his head spun slightly.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice wavered a fraction. “Are you –?”

“It’s _you_.” Dean gave a giddy laugh and rubbed his cheek against the feathers. His gracelet pulsed in response, almost as though it was in sync with Castiel’s wings. Which made sense, since it was his grace in that gracelet and all. “It’s all _real_.”

“Of course it’s real,” Castiel said. “I doubt that Michael would know –”

“Screw him!” Dean turned and swung a leg over Castiel, straddling his lap, then kissed him quickly, dizzily. “I want you, Cas. You’re _here_ and it’s real and fuck, I love you so much. And don’t you fucking cry on me,” he added when Castiel’s eyes began to mist over like Sam’s often did when the moose was emotional.

“Are you sure?” Castiel said. “I know I gave you that orgasm earlier, but –”

“Cas, shut the fuck up and listen to me.” Dean kissed Castiel to make extra sure that he shut up, although he’d probably caused an angel brain shutdown judging by how glazed Castiel’s bright blue eyes were when Dean pulled away. “One, I always want you. Like, always. You’re hot and you’re mine and honestly, you’re literally just as grounding as this gracelet. Even more so. Especially that magic dick of yours.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, so Dean hurriedly kissed him again to keep him quiet.

“And two? I want that magic dick of yours inside me while I ride you with your wings around me. Think you can handle that?”

Judging by how Castiel’s pupils had dilated, with the black swallowing out the blue, he could very much handle that. Before Dean could say another word, he had been carefully lifted off Castiel’s lap so that the angel could lay him against the pillows reverently, as though he was something precious and – yeah, nope, not fucking going there, because actually feeling like he was something was a sure-fire way to start questioning reality again.

“Only if you can handle me properly worshipping your body like you deserve,” Castiel said, tucking pillows underneath Dean so that he was reclining before settling in Dean’s lap.

“Let’s talk about whether ‘deserve’ is really the right word here,” Dean said. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s not.” He gave Dean a quick kiss. “Because that implies that you’re going to argue against it.” Another kiss. “When in fact you deserve far more than I’m able to give you.”

Dean tried to fight back against the praise being showered on him, but it was very difficult when Castiel’s kisses were distracting the hell out of him and diverting his attention. Which was probably Castiel’s goal, to be honest; to get Dean so tripped out on kisses that he wouldn’t protest the praise. And dammit, it was working. But that didn’t mean that Dean was actually accepting it, no sir.

“Your lips are heavenly,” Castiel said with another kiss. “Your freckles are divine. I crafted each one myself to make sure that I got them right when I lifted you from Hell, even if it was ten years ago for you.” Kisses were peppered all over Dean’s face, and he squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the now-familiar stinging.

“Cas –”

“Your eyes are a shade of their own.” Castiel kissed each of Dean’s eyelids. “So uniquely green. They deserve a name just for them.”

“Stop it.” Dean’s voice cracked. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly and swiping his forearm over them. “Do that kiss worship thing, whatever, but just don’t – just _shut up_ , okay?”

Castiel looked at him like a wounded puppy that had been told to stop licking, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned in for another kiss, and Dean closed his eyes so that he could lose himself in the soft, slow dance of lips. He didn’t even realise that Castiel had mojoed every stitch of both their clothing onto the floor until the angel’s hands trailed down his shoulders and gripped his biceps, while their half-hard cocks slid loosely together.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, and I won’t go into detail, but you’re beautiful,” Castiel murmured against his lips. Castiel’s hips barely moved, giving enough of a hint of friction that Dean’s cock was readily swelling with blood but not enough friction to offer any relief. “Your soul is brilliant and entrancing. I didn’t realise how much I loved you until I thought I had lost you to Michael.”

“Maybe – maybe don’t talk about your homicidal older brother when we got our dicks out,” Dean gasped, grabbing handfuls of Castiel’s wings so he wouldn’t touch himself. Everything was heightened, like there was a current buzzing under his skin and electrifying every bit of information taken in, and he didn’t want to risk coming before Castiel could fuck him just because he wanted a bit of relief. Plus, why touch his dick when there were wings for him to touch?

“I wish you had a better opinion of yourself.” Castiel pressed one last kiss to Dean’s lips, then licked and nibbled down his jaw to his neck. “It baffles me how you can think so low of yourself even across two timelines.”

“You oughta see the original 2010 me,” Dean tried to quip, but it fell short when his head was tilted so that Castiel could latch onto the underside of his jaw, working the skin between his teeth to produce a sting and what would no doubt blossom into a bright mark.

“I said before that I would give your body the love it deserves later,” Castiel said. “That’s what I’m going to do now, because you’re _mine_ and I’ll never let anyone else get their hands on you again.”

Neck kissing held a special place in Dean’s heart, not that he would ever have told anyone. After all, when sex had long been a way for him to unwind, to let him use his body in a way that could bring pleasure to others instead of pain, intimate shit like neck kissing was never on the table. Baring your neck like that? Trusting the other person to that degree? Cassie and Lisa had probably been the only other people Dean had let near his neck. And now Castiel not only joined their ranks, but he far surpassed them in both pleasure and trust.

Dean fell into a haze as Castiel ravaged his neck while grinding slowly, removing him from the anchor of his body in a far more pleasurable and _safe_ way than Michael’s possession had. The gracelet helped, remaining a constant source of grounding, but Dean didn’t realise just how out of it he was until Castiel bit at his soft stomach, leaving a fresh mark among the older ones from his handjob.

“When’d you get down there?” Dean slurred. Castiel just chuckled and sucked another bruise below Dean’s navel, above the thatch of dark hair that nested his hard cock.

“I think you drifted off,” Castiel said, gripping Dean’s hips tightly but not painfully, no doubt trying not to come if he was feeling anywhere as good as Dean was feeling at that moment. “Your mind was nowhere near here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you feel so good.” Dean reached out with a boneless arm so that he could pull Castiel down and clumsily kiss him, and Castiel groaned and cupped his face to deepen the kiss. When Castiel’s hips jerked, smearing precome across Dean’s stomach, Dean mirrored his groan and began to grind, mouth falling open at the heat that pulsed in his cock in response.

“Where’s the –”

“Just mojo me ready,” Dean said. “I know you wanna draw it out, do that worship thing or whatever, but – dammit, Cas, I need you in me _now_.”

Castiel’s fingers dug even tighter into Dean’s hips, holding them still while he squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. After an exhale that was just as deep, Castiel released Dean’s hips so that he could trail fingers down, tracing circles into Dean’s inner thighs. Dean’s breath hitched as his legs fell open even wider, with even more on display for Castiel to drink in and do with as he pleased.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to prepare you the human way?” Castiel said, voice husky as he drank in the sight of Dean spread before him. “Foreplay can heighten the experience incredibly –”

“What, that kissing shit wasn’t foreplay?” Dean said. “Just stick it in me before I lose my mind, okay?”

Castiel looked ready to protest, but the way Dean clutched his gracelet to his chest tightly probably convinced the angel to get a move on and mojo Dean open and lubed with a featherlight touch of fingers behind his balls. Dean closed his eyes as Castiel lifted him easily with supernatural strength to swap their positions so that Dean was straddling his lap while he leaned back against the pillows. Not that Dean would ever admit it out loud, but the angelic manhandling was probably one of his biggest turn-ons, considering that he was a fair bit stronger than most other people he’d slept with and playful wrestling had involved a lot of holding back. He hissed and bit his lip when Castiel’s wet, blunt head prodded at his hole before pushing inside, rather effectively snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Dean gasped, pushing his hips down to capture more of Castiel as the angel slowly impaled him. Castiel’s firm fingers on his hips prevented him from sinking down too fast, and they stayed there until Dean was seated on Castiel’s lap, ass tucked snugly against balls.

“Dean.” Fingers brushed over Dean’s forehead, smoothing back any loose strands caught on the sweat-damp skin. “Open your eyes. Please.”

Why would he open his eyes? Too much effort when Castiel was slowly thrusting in and out, Dean’s hole clenching around him. But when Castiel pleaded again, Dean managed to scrounge up enough willpower to force his eyes to flutter open, and he was met with his partner’s dark, blown gaze in return.

“I – I missed this.” Castiel kissed Dean messily, wetly, gripping Dean’s hips again as though to ground himself, while his wings wrapped around Dean. “I missed _you_.”

Dean just moaned and shivered as pleasure rippled through him, more than content to slump there in his dark cocoon and let Castiel do all the work. And judging by the sounds that Castiel made, this was very much a two-way street. His wings were also an active participant, cushioning Dean’s back so that the hands on his hips weren’t necessary to support him, the feathers trailing zings of grace across Dean’s electrified skin as the grace in him reacted to the physical energy constructs touching him.

Hell, to be totally cliché, this was probably the best sex Dean had ever had. Oh, his first few fumblings with Castiel had a special place in his heart, and he was hard-pressed to rate this above their first actual roll in the sack, but this time was sweetened by the knowledge that there was no impending Apocalypse. Michael was gone, no longer riding Dean’s ass like a puppeteer. Castiel wasn’t falling and losing his grace and wings. They weren’t seized by the urgency that had come from Castiel being hot and horny and aching to get himself off, nor the desperate need for grounding from the aftermath of Dean’s possession. Sure, he still clung to the gracelet like a lifeline, but having Castiel inside him this time as opposed to just jerking him off was an anchor, rooting Dean in the knowledge that Michael was gone and couldn’t fuck with him anymore through illusions and mental torture.

They still had hunts from the other timeline to deal with, yeah, but for once, there was no more end-of-the-world looming over them. They could take their time, map out each other’s bodies inside and out, learn what made the other tick, how beautiful the other looked when coming during sex that wasn’t a desperate fumble for intimacy.

The wings were a hot bonus too.

“ _Shit_ –” Dean gasped at the sight of Castiel with his head bowed, black hair a sweaty mess, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as he worked his hips with the wild ferocity that could only come from angelic strength, but with a gentle lovingness that was all Castiel. Blue light glimmered behind his eyelids. “Cas – eyes – wanna see –”

Quivering, Castiel forced his eyes open, and something hot jolted in Dean’s stomach at the sight of the blue-white light that had overtaken Castiel’s eyes, turning his pupils white and his irises iridescent.

“Dean – oh –”

“ _Cas_ –”

Castiel’s back arched and, with a high-pitched cry, he came deep inside Dean, making Dean shudder violently as hot, sticky warmth erupted inside him. The lightbulb burst, plunging them into darkness, and Dean came between them to the sound of every other breakable thing in his room shattering. Holy shit – _holy shit_ – the guy literally blew up his room with an _orgasm_. If Dean had had any doubts about reality before, they were most definitely gone now. No way in hell did Michael have the imagination to do _this_.

“My apologies,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s neck. He slipped out when he slid down the pillows onto his back, cradling Dean like he was holding precious cargo (and Dean was so not going there, not now), the pillows scattered around them and the blankets in a mess at the end of the bed. When Dean started squirming, Castiel cooperated in switching their positions so that he was curled up into Dean’s side, his wings hanging limply behind him. “I attempted to contain it to this room. I’m unsure of how successful I was.”

Dean blinked and squinted when the light suddenly flickered back on, the bulb repaired by an unseen force in the blink of an eye. A quick scan of the room told him that objects like his framed picture of four-year-old him with Mary had also been fixed. It also took him another moment to realise that the mess and stickiness between them and inside him was gone. Damn, angel mojo was handy.

“The hell didn’t that happen before?” Dean slurred, lifting his leaden arms so that he could drape them around Castiel’s back, under his wings. “‘Cause you were falling?”

“I don’t think so.” Castiel nuzzled into Dean’s neck, pressing tiny kisses that raised goosebumps on the skin underneath his lips. “I had control over my power then. But now that I’m a seraph –”

“You’re gettin’ used to controlling your power again.” Dean grinned. “Huh. I made you lose control of yourself. That’s fuckin’ hot.”

“Of course you would think that,” Castiel said in amusement. He ruffled his wings, then slung one loosely across Dean’s stomach and let the other hang off the side of the bed. Dean adjusted his grip on Castiel to hold the angel close with one arm around his back and another cradling his head, fingers tangling in Castiel’s messy damp hair.

“I wonder what else you can do with your grace,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Angel bondage. Edging. So many possibilities.”

“You know,” Castiel deadpanned, “angels are regarded as holy beings. Above blasphemy.”

“And you and I both know that’s bullshit,” Dean said with the air of someone playing a trump card. “I mean, all this crap happened because of angels.”

“Normal humans don’t know that,” Castiel said. “My accusation of blasphemy still applies.”

Dean laughed and kissed the top of Castiel’s head. God, he loved this angel so much it was scary. He would’ve done anything for Castiel – he _had_ done anything for Castiel, saying yes just to save him, coming back in time partly to spare him from everything the other Cas had gone through. The other part was to spare Sam the other timeline crap, of course, because he’d do absolutely anything for Sam as well.

He’d be alright. He had to be. He had his brother, his angel, his mom…his big, dysfunctional family. And if he’d made it through a decade of shit in the other timeline with even less support, he sure as hell could cope now.

“Wanna blaspheme some more?” Dean said. Castiel sucked in a deep breath when Dean started to trace fingers along his lower back, just above his ass. “You know you wanna.”

“And you wonder why I was cast from Heaven,” Castiel muttered. But he was a very eager participant in the kiss that Dean initiated, even being the one to start licking into Dean’s mouth, so Dean didn’t worry too much about annoying him. In fact, judging by the dick against his hip that could only be hard again so quickly from angel mojo, he was as far as possible from annoying Castiel.

“Say, what’s more blasphemous?” Dean said when he broke the kiss, reaching down to palm Castiel’s erection. Castiel hissed and bucked his hips into the touch. “An angel fucking a human and getting their dick dirty? Or an angel letting a human fuck them? An angel letting a human suck ‘em off with that filthy mud monkey mouth? Or an angel gettin’ on their knees and blowing a human?”

“We should – we should test all of them,” Castiel gasped, biting his lip so hard that it bled as Dean stroked slowly. “Just to make sure.”

“Now that,” Dean said, “is the best damn idea I’ve heard all day.”


End file.
